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x-.V; a 

INCIDEN 

Of 


T S 


/ _ 


BORDER LIFE, 

ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE 

TIMES AND CONDITION 


OF THE 

FIRST SETTLEMENTS 

IN PARTS OF THE 


MIDDLE MD WESTERN STATES, 

COMPRISING 


NARRATIVES OF STRANGE AND THRILLING ADVENTURE- 
ACCOUNTS OF BATTLES—SKIRMISHES AND PERSONAL 
ENCOUNTERS WITH THE INDIANS-DESCR1PT10NS 
OF THEIR MANNERS, CUSTOMS, MODES OF 
WARFARE, TREATMENT OF PRISONERS, 

&C. &C.—ALSO, 


THE HISTORY OF SEVERAL REMARKABLE 


CAPTIVITIES AND ESCAPES. 

TO WHICH ARE ADDED 

BRIEF HISTORICAL SKETCHES 

OF THE 

WAR IN THE NORTH-WEST. 

EMBRACING THE EXPEDITIONS UNDER 

GENS. HARMAR, St. CLAIR AND WAYNE. 

WITH AN 

APPENDIX AND A REVIEW. 


As flies the sun over Larmon’s grassy hill, so pass the tales of old—it is the voice 
of years that are gone—they roll before me with all their deeds—I seize the tales 
as they pass and pour them forth. —Ossi an. 


COMPILED FHOM AUTHE.VTIC SOURCES. 


CHAMBERSBURG, Pa. 
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. PRITTS. 


I 







1839 . 











EASTERN DISTRICT OF PENNSYLVANIA— to wit : 

Be it rebiembered, That on the Nineteenth day of October, Anno Do- 
(L. S.) mini, one thousand eight hundred and thirty-nine, J. Pritts, of the said 
District, hath deposited in this office the title of a Book, the title of which 
is in the words following, to wit: 

“ Incidents of Border Life, Illustrative of the Times and Condition of the First 
Settlements in parts of the Middle and Western States, comprising Narratives of 
strange and thrilling Adventure, accounts of Battles—Skirmishes and Personal 
Encounters with the Indians—Descriptions of their Manners, Customs, Modes of 
Warfare, Treatment of Prisoners, &c. &.c.:—Also, The History of several Re¬ 
markable Captivities and Escapes.—To which are added Brief Historical Sketches 
of the War in the North -West, embracing the Expeditions under Gens. Harmar, 
St. Clair and Wayne—With an Appendix and a Review, compiled from authen¬ 
tic sources.” The right whereof he claims as Proprietor, in conformity with an Act 
of Congress, entitled “An act to amend the several acts respecting Copy-Rights.’* 


FRA’s HOPKINSON, Cl’k of the Dist. 






PREFACE. 


Several years since, the compiler of this work was in company, 
in a stage coach, with two gentlemen of the clerical profession, on 
our way to Philadelphia. In the course of the journey, the conver¬ 
sation happening to turn upon the early history of the region of 
country through which we were passing, one of our companions was 
very naturally led to touch upon some of those remarkable and stir¬ 
ring incidents of border life, to which the almost constant state of 
hostility between the white settlers and the aboriginal inhabitants, 
so abundantly gave rise. The other of our companions—a gentle¬ 
man distinguished for his piety, learning, and rarely surpassed pow¬ 
ers of oratory—became so much interested in the subject of discourse, 
that he enquired with some earnestness of manner where he should 
be able to procure a work from which he might become more inti¬ 
mate with the details of those frontier events. To this it was replied, 
that it was to be regretted that the written history of these times was 
so very meagre ; and that even what little has found a record in the 
detached and homely narratives of some participators in these fron¬ 
tier adventures, or in the equally unpretending and fragmentary 
chronicles of other, but contemporary writers of their deeds, had 
almost passed from the reach of the general reader—books of this 
kind having become extremely scarce. The result of the conversa¬ 
tion was an expression of an increased desire on the part of the 
clergyman to obtain a particular work devoted to the subject, and of a 
determination on our part to collect as many of the printed fragments 
of that part of our country’s history as a diligent research might ena¬ 
ble us to procure; and from the collection, and such additional 
resources as might fall within our reach, to compile a volume em¬ 
bracing whatever might seem interesting and suitable to the design 
and scope of the desired work. Though years elapsed without put¬ 
ting us in possession of the sought-for materials as fully as we 
wished, we flatter ourselves that we have at length succeeded in 
bringing together such a collection of narratives, and detail of adven- 


IV 


PREFACE. 


tures, as seem sufficiently copious, authentic, and interesting to jus¬ 
tify committing them to the press and the judgment of the reading 
public. 

In presenting this work to his countrymen, the compiler feels 
that he has mistaken the American taste, and greatly overrated the 
value attached to the contents of his book, if it does not meet with a 
welcome reception. It would be strange, indeed, if at a period when 
even the most extravagant and frivolous creations of fancy find ready 
consumption in the perhaps growing appetite for the marvellous and 
romantic, a narration of exciting scenes, known to be undoubted 
facts, and presented in the unadorned language of truth, should be 
less acceptable. If the admiration and sympathy of readers can be 
so strongly enlisted in the heroism and suffering that never existed 
save in the creative imagination of the novelist, how much more 
readily and rationally should their sensibilities be touched by the 
noble daring, the toils and sufferings of the pioneers, seeking, amidst 
ceaseless peril, to convert a howling wilderness into “a land flowing 
with milk and honey,” and preparing the way for us, their succes¬ 
sors and children, to sit down in peace under our own vine and fig- 
tree, where there are none to make us afraid. 

On many accounts, we think our volume must be received with 
great eagerness. As already intimated, there have been but few books 
ever offered to the world, whether of real or fictitious adventure, so 
rich in varied, thrilling, and wonderful incident. From the first 
sound of their axe on the borders of the wilderness, through all the 
successive stages of improvement, until the forest was gradually 
cleared away, and other frontier settlements formed by other but 
kindred adventurers, to be in their turn the scenes of wild and daring 
exploits, interposed to shield the first against the predatory incur¬ 
sions of a never-tiring foe, the original settlers of any given portion 
of the country whose early history it is intended to illustrate, passed 
through so many strange and exciting events that the unadorned 
record of the life of any one of these bcick-woods-men , appears far 
more like an ingenuous romance than a sober and veritable biogra¬ 
phy. We do not purport to give a book made up entirely of the 
memoirs of individual adventurers. For the most part our volume 
is filled with only the most remarkable incidents occurring in the 
settlements, of which any account has been preserved. It is much 
to be regretted that the entire lives of many more of the pioneers of 
civilization, are not recorded.—A few such, however, are to be found 


PREFACE. 


V 


in the following pages.—And we defy any reader of the least pre¬ 
tension to literary taste, to take up any one of these, the Life of 
Col. James Smith, for instance, with which our volume begins, and 
perusing it as a mere story book, independent of its value as a record 
of ver} interesting events, and not pronounce that simple and artless 
narrative one of the most charming compositions he ever read. It 
is but recently we heard one of our friends, (alas! now no more,) 
a gentleman of a remarkably classic turn of mind, and keenly alive 
to all that is beautiful in literature, exclaim, unconsciously to himself, 
as he rose from the perusal of it, “ The untutored Defoe!” We 
have often thought since how appropriately the term was applied. 
We see throughout the whole narrative, told in language always 
plain and simple as a child’s, though in some places, it is true, not 
quite grammatically correct, the same minute yet not tiresome detail 
of circumstances, the same descriptive manuer of relating events as 
they appear to have occurred, which have made Robinson Crusoe a 
favorite with all, from the boy just beginning to read, or the unlet¬ 
tered servant girl half spelling through its pages, up to those most 
distinguished for learning and cultivation of taste. But rich in won¬ 
derful, yet at the same time apparently natural incident, as this best 
production of Defoe undoubtedly is, we deem it to be even surpassed 
in that respect by the humble sketch we have just ventured to com¬ 
pare with it. And what has been said of this first article of our 
volume, might be said also, to a certain extent, of nearly every one 
that follows. We have referred to it as a specimen merely because of 
its place, and not because of any great superiority, either in matter or 
in manner, it possesses over a number of the other articles, except 
that it is somewhat more complete as a biography. Our whole book 
throughout abounds with scenes and adventures equally romantic, 
and many of them are described as artlessly and as well. 

Indeed, what almost everyone knows generally of the kind of life 
led bv the first settlers in the middle, and some parts of the western 
states, will serve to convince him that our compilation must be a 
work of no little interest. Almost every one knows something, 
yet how indefinite is his knowledge, of the early history of this now 
flourishing part of the country. He may have some general notion 
of brave men starting out, with their families, from homes of secu¬ 
rity, and settling in little groupes in the wilderness, erecting their log 
cabins in their clearings, and a rude stockade fort near the centre of 
each of these little colonies) to which, at the alarm of an invasion, 

A* 


VI 


PREFACE* 


their wives and children were seen hastily flying—of the whole of 
one of these little settlements assembled at times of extraordinary 
danger, and going from farm to farm to plough their fields or to cut 
down their harvest, their rifles all the time at their sides, or ready 
to be seized at a moment’s warning—of savages lurking in the woods, 
shooting down whoever ventured to go forth unarmed and alone to 
his labor, then rushing into the undefended door to kill or to carry 
into captivity, all the inmates of his dwelling—of desperate conflicts 
between the white settlers and their savage foes, sometimes one 
party victorious, and sometimes the other—of fugitive Indians pur¬ 
sued into the heart of the wilderness, and the captives they had car¬ 
ried off, perhaps the wives, children, brothers, or sisters of the 
pursuers, rescued—of other prisoners, when pursuit was either 
unsuccessful or not made, sometimes making their escape by the 
way, then chased by their disappointed captors, and if not again 
taken, wandering days and nights in the forest, without food or the 
means of procuring it, and at length reaching their homes, perhaps 
only to find them desolate ; sometimes, less fortunate, bound to the 
stake, and expiring in tortures ; and sometimes carried to the Indian 
villages, adopted into their families, and becoming learned in their 
language and traditions, their manners and customs, modes of life 
and of warfare, and then perhaps alter long years of captivity, re¬ 
turning to their friends, and describing all the wonders they had 
witnessed during a sojourn among a strange and uncivilized people. 
But beyond these vague generalities, how few know any thing of 
the life these settlers led. Yet who that knows aught of that life 
does not long to know more? "Who that has heard of any such 
incidents as we have just now enumerated, does not feel a longing 
desire to hear them described at length, with all their attending cir¬ 
cumstances ? To gratify such a feeling as this was one object of 
our compilation. Whether we have succeeded to the satisfaction of 
our readers it is for them to determine; but for our own part, we 
repeat, we would not know where to seek, whether in the pages of 
fiction or of history, a relation of events more romantic, or possess¬ 
ing a more absorbing interest, than many of the narratives we have 
given to the public. 

But it is not merely as a collection of entertaining and wonderful 
adventure, to be read for a winter evening’s amusement, and then to 
be thrown aside as a thing of little worth, our volume recommends 
itself to the American reader. It is still more valuable as a faithful 


TREFACE, 


vii 

chronicle of the times to which it relates. Decidedly the most 
interesting portions in the history of any part of onr country, are 
those relating first to the period of its early settlement, and secondly 
to that period commencing with the French and Indian war, and 
terminating with the struggle of the revolution. But it so happens, 
that in the greater part of that region of country whose early condi¬ 
tion this work is intended to illustrate, these two periods exactly 
coincide. Partly for this reason, and partly for others we shall 
presently mention, do we deem that very region of country the scene 
of more varied and stirring adventure than has been witnessed in 
almost any other section of the land—the incidents of a frontier set¬ 
tlement, and the incidents of one or the other of the wars referred 
to, all taking place at the same time. In the character of the abori¬ 
ginal tribes who disputed with the settlers of this region the occu¬ 
pancy of the lands, and in the features of the country where their 
contests were had, may be found other causes both to multiply the 
adventures and to render them remarkable, beyond those of any 
other of our frontier settlements. The Indians who here resisted 
the advance of civilization, were certainly the most heroic and war¬ 
like race that ever claimed a portion of the territory we now call our 
own, and they kept up a more prolonged border warfare than was 
elsewhere witnessed in defence of it. During a great part of this 
protracted warfare, the white settlements were on the eastern side of 
the mountains, and the Indian villages on the western ; the moun¬ 
tainous district between, while it served as a barrier to the tide of 
civilization, affording secure hiding places to small war parties of 
the savages, whence they could wait a favorable opportunity, and 
make an unexpected descent upon the settlements, and then again 
sheltering them in the fastnesses of the hills until at their leisure 
they could make good their retreat. And when the intrepid pio¬ 
neers at length ventured to cross the mountains and establish them¬ 
selves in the western valley, they were so few in number, and remo¬ 
ved so far beyond the reach of any assistance their countrymen 
might have rendered them, that they were enabled to maintain them¬ 
selves in their new homes against the formidable attacks of their far 
more numerous adversaries, only by engaging in the most desperate 
conflicts. During such a period, and in such a condition of the 
frontiers, more remarkable scenes must have been enacted every 
year, than have been witnessed within the same extent of country, in 
any half a century since. But, for many reasons, it is of this very 


Vlll 


PREFACE. 


period we know the least. The adventurers had too much to do to 
write their own history. Indeed the most of them knew far better 
how to wield the axe or the rifle than the pen. And even of those 
who lived to enjoy, in the evening of their days, the quietness of a 
safe and peaceful home, and who were skilled enough to record the 
various adventures of which they had been witnesses or had borne a 
part, few, it is evident, thought the occurrences of their eventful 
lives worth the trouble of narrating. Such incidents as to us would 
appear strange, were to them of every-day occurrence, and per¬ 
haps they thought as little of them in many instances as the men of 
our own day do of the ordinary events of theirs. We suspect, how¬ 
ever, that of the few memorials of the times that have been in print, 
some have been lost. They may have fallen into the hands of those 
whose bad taste would lead them to despise the homeliness of the 
style in which they were written, and to cast them aside among the 
rubbish of forgotten things. This we know, that it was with great 
difficulty we were enabled to procure a number of the most interest¬ 
ing narratives in our volume. The copies of them to be found must 
be extremely scarce. What few remain of these homely, but at the 
same time valuable and highly entertaining productions, it is one 
main object of our publication to preserve. It is a duty which we 
of the present generation owe to the memory of the pioneers of 
civilization in the region where we dwell, to gather up with religious 
care whatever records of the times there are left, and, studying them 
well, to transmit them in as enduring a form as possible to the gen¬ 
erations that succeed us. We, the children of these hardy adven¬ 
turers, and the posterity that comes after us, should know how 
much we are indebted to them, in order to appreciate as we ought 
the blessings we enjoy, purchased and secured to 11 s at such an ex¬ 
pense of peril, suffering, and toil. How different from ours is the 
life they led! But where, save in these fragments of history we 
have endeavored to snatch from oblivion, can we obtain a correct 
knowledge of their times? If we form an idea of them from a com¬ 
parison with what at present we may see going on, our impressions 
must be altogether wrong.—There is nothing in the world now that 
in the least resembles the border scenes of that period.—The fron¬ 
tier adventurers of our own time, differ as much irom those of that 
day, in all their habits and circumstances of life, as the open prairie 
lands, where the settler now finds his field ready for the plough, 


PREFACE. 


IX 


differ from the thickly wooded country, where the earlier pioneer 
cnt his way through the forest to make himself a farm. 

From the materials in our hands, we might have attempted a gen¬ 
eral outline of the history of the period we have undertaken to illus¬ 
trate ; we might have given a more connected narrative of the fron¬ 
tier events we wished to preserve; and concluded with a general 
description of border life and border character of the period. Such 
attempts have been often made. But they are usually wanting in 
interest; they fail to give any vivid impressions of what they de¬ 
scribe ; and very frequently they are only calculated to mislead. 
We have chosen rather to give our Incidents of Border Life in 
detached pieces as we found them. And especially where the ad¬ 
venturers themselves, or those who were their contemporaries, have 
related the events of their times, we have greatly preferred preserv¬ 
ing their own stories in their own homely language.—Their deeds 
are best told in their own words.—We have scarcely i changed a 
syllable. This the taste of some may condemn, but in our opinion 
it is one of the chief merits of the work.—To have altered the style 
of the witnesses would have greatly marred and weakened their evi¬ 
dence.—To have attempted to improve the pictures they have drawn, 
would only have destroyed their identity ; they would have been no 
longer, as they now are, perfect representations of border life— 
scenes of days gone by, fixed, at the time, in enduring colors, by the 
rude but faithful artists who were witnesses of what they paint with 
such untutored yet such graphic skill. 


























































































* 































































CONTENTS 


PAG*. 

Life and Adventures of Col. James Smith,.13 

McCullough’s Narrative,.87 

Bard’s do.U5 

Robison’s do.- - - * 123 

Dr. Knight’s do..131 

Slover’s do. - - - -- -- -- - 139 

Memoir of Col. Crawford,. 149 

Scott’s Narrative, -.151 

Trial of Mamachtaga,.155 

Story of the Lame Indian,.- 

Manheim’s Family,. 167 

Corbly and Family,.* 

Morgan’s Adventures, . -.* -169 

Singular Prowess of a Woman,.1'1 

Massey Herbeson and Family,. 

Williamson’s Narrative,.1^5 

Johonnet’s do. - -- -- -- -- - 183 

Jordan’s Family, - - 191 

Extract from Humphrey’s Life of Gen. Putnam, - 

Devastation of Wyoming Settlements,. 

Eastburn’s Narrative,. 

Gilbert’s do. - 215 

Van Campen’s do. - 255 

Brady’s Adventure,.265 

Boone’s do. - -- -- -- -- - 289 

Kenton’s do.. 

Logan’s do.. 339 

The Whetzel’s do.. 

Frontier Men.—Gen. Wayne—Capl. Wells,.367 

Adventures of Robert Benham, - 375 

“ * Alexander M’Connell,.* 378 

44 ‘ Robert and Samuel M’Afee, ... - - 379 

“ 4 Bryant and Hogan, - 381 

“ * Adam Poe,.383 

“ * Davis, Caffre and M’Clure,.387 

“ ‘ Col. Thomas Marshall,.388 

u ‘ Capt. James Ward,.389 

14 4 Francis Downing,.391 

“ 4 The Widow Scraggs, -.392 

Incidents attending a Desertion,.39 5 

Adventures of John Merrill,.3® 

“ 4 Ward, Calvin and Kenton,. 

44 4 Ward, Baker and Kenton, ----- 402 

44 4 May, Johnston, Flinn and Skyles, ... - 403 

44 4 (’apt. William Hubbell, .... - 427 

44 4 The Johnsons,.432 

The Lost Sister,.433 

War in the North-West.—G en. Harmar,. 

44 St. Clair,.440 

44 Wayne,.447 

Appendix,.455 

Review.—T he Great West,.465 
































REMARKABLE OCCURRENCES 


IN THE LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


COL. JAMES SMITH. 




In May, 1755, the province of Pennsylvania agreed to send 
out three hundred men, in order to cut a wagon road from Fort 
Loudon, to join Braddock’s road, near the Turkey Foot, or three 
forks of Yohogania. My brother-in-law, William Smith, Esq. of 
Conococheague, was appointed commissioner, to have the oversight 
of these road-cutters. 

Though I was at that time only eighteen years of age, I had 
fallen violently in love with a young lady, whom I apprehended 
was possessed of a large share of both beauty and virtue ; but being 
born between Venus and Mars, I concluded I must also leave my 
dear fair one, and go out with this company of road-cutters, to see 
the event of this campaign ; but still expecting that sometime in the 
course of this summer, I should again return to the arms of my 
beloved. 

We went on with the road, without interruption, until near the 
Allegheny Mountain; when I was sent back, in order to hurry up 
some provision wagons that were on the way after us. I proceeded 
down the road as far as the crossings of Juniata, where, finding the 
wagons were coming on as fast as possible, I returned up the road 
again towards the Allegheny Mountain, in company with one Arnold 
Vigoras. About four or five miles above Bedford, three Indians had 
made a blind of bushes, stuck in the ground, as though they grew 
naturally, where they concealed themselves, about fifteen yards from 
the road. When we came opposite to them, they fired upon us, at 
this short distance, and killed my fellow traveller, yet their bullets 
did not touch me; but my horse making a violent start, threw me, 
and the Indians immediately ran up, and took me prisoner. The 
one that laid hold on me was a Canasataugua, the other two were 
Delawares. One of them could speak English, and asked me if 
there were any more white men coming after ? I told them not any 
near, that I knew of. Two of these Indians stood by me, whilst 
the other scalped my comrade: they then set off and ran at a smart 
rate, through the woods, for about fifteen miles, and that night we 
slept on the Allegheny Mountain, without fire. 


14 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


The next morning they divided the last of their provision, which 
they had brought from Fort Du Quesne, and gave me an equal share, 
which was about two or three ounces of mouldy biscuit—this and a 
young ground-hog, about as large as a rabbit, roasted, and also 
equally divided, was all the provision we had until we came to the 
Loyal-Hannan, which was about fifty miles; and a great part of the 
way we came through exceeding rocky laurel thickets, without any 
path. When we came to the west side of Laurel Hill, they gave 
the scalp halloo, as usual, which is a long yell or halloo, for every 
scalp or prisoner they have in possession; the last of these scalp 
halloos were followed with quick and sudden shrill shouts of joy 
and triumph. On their performing this, we were answered by the 
firing of a number of guns on the Loyal-Hannan, one after another, 
quicker than one could count, by another party of Indians, who 
were encamped near where Ligoneer now stands. As we advanced 
near this party, they increased with repeated shouts of joy and 
triumph; but I did not share with them in their excessive mirth. 
When we came to this camp, we found they had plenty of turkeys 
and other meat there; and though I never before eat venison without 
bread or salt, yet as I was hungry, it relished very well. There we 
lay that night, and the next morning the whole of us marched on 
our way for Fort Du Quesne. The night after we joined another 
camp of Indians, with nearly the same ceremony, attended with 
great noise, and apparent joy, among all except one. The next 
morning we continued our march, and in the afternoon we came in 
full view of the fort, which stood on the point, near where Fort 
Pitt now stands. We then made a halt on the bank of the Alle¬ 
gheny, and repeated the scalp halloo, which was answered by the 
firing of all the firelocks in the hands of both Indians and French 
who were in and about the fort, in the aforesaid manner, and also 
the great guns, which were followed by the continued shouts and 
yells of the different savage tribes who were then collected there. 

As I was at this time unacquainted with this mode of firing and 
yelling of the savages, I concluded that there were thousands of 
Indians there ready to receive General Braddock; but what added 
to my surprise, I saw numbers running towards me, stripped naked, 
excepting breech-clouts, and painted in the most hideous manner, of 
various colours, though the principal colour was vermilion, or a 
bright red; yet there was annexed to this, black, brown, blue, &c. 
As they approached, they formed themselves into two long ranks, 
about two or three rods apart. I was told by an Indian that could 
speak English, that I must run betwixt these ranks, and that they 
would flog me all the way, as I ran, and if I ran quick, it would be 
so much the better, as they would quit when I got to the end of the 
ranks. There appeared to be a general rejoicing around me, yet, I 
could find nothing like joy in my breast; but I started to the race 
with all the resolution and vigour I was capable of exerting, and 
found that it was as I had been told, for I was flogged the whole 
way. When I had got near the end of the lines, I was struck witji 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


15 


something that appeared to me to be a stick, or the handle of a 
tomahawk, which caused me to fall to the ground. On my recov¬ 
ering my senses, I endeavoured to renew my race; but as I arose, 
some one cast sand in my eyes, which blinded me so, that I could 
not see where to run. They continued beating me most intolerably, 
until I was at length insensible; but before I lost my senses, I re¬ 
member my wishing them to strike the fatal blow, for I thought 
they intended killing me, but apprehended they were too long 
about it. 

The first thing I remember was my being in the fort, amidst the 
French and Indians, and a French doctor standing by me, who had 
opened a vein in my left arm ; after which the interpreter asked me 
how I did : I told him I felt much pain ; the doctor then washed my 
wounds, and the bruised places of my body, with French brandy. 
As I felt pain, and the brandy smelt well, I asked for some inwardly, 
but the doctor told me, by the interpreter, that it did not suit my case. 

When they found l could speak, a number of Indians came around 
me, and examined me, with threats of cruel death, if I did not tell 
the truth. The first question they asked me, was, how many men 
were there in the party that were coming from Pennsylvania, to 
join Braddock? I told them the truth, that there were three hun¬ 
dred. The next question was, were they well armed ? I told them 
they were all well armed, (meaning the arm of flesh,) for they had 
only about thirty guns among the whole of them; which, if the 
Indians had known, they would certainly have gone and cut them 
all off; therefore, I could not in conscience let them know the de¬ 
fenceless situation of these road-cutters. I was then sent to the 
hospital, and carefully attended by the doctors, and recovered quick¬ 
er than what I expected. 

Some time after I was there, I was visited by the Delaware Indian 
already mentioned, who was at the taking of me, and could speak 
some English. Though he spoke but bad English, yet I found him 
to be a man of considerable understanding. I asked him if I had 
done any thing that had offended the Indians, which caused them to 
treat me so unmercifully ? He said no, it was only an old custom 
the Indians had, and it was like how do you do; after that, he said, 
I would be well used. I asked him if I should be permitted to 
remain with the French ? He said no—and told me, that, as soon 
as I recovered, I must not only go with the Indians, but must be 
made an Indian myself. I asked him what news from Braddock’s 
army ? He said, the Indians spied them every day, and he showed 
me by making marks on the ground with a stick, that Braddock’s 
army was advancing in very close order, and that the Indians would 
surround them, take trees, and (as he expressed it,) shoot urn down 
all one pigeon. 

Shortly after this, on the 9th day of July, 1755, in the morning, 
I heard a great stir in the fort. As I could then walk with a staff 
in my hand, I went out of the door, which was just by the wall of 
the fort, and stood upon the wall and viewed the Indians in a huddle 


16 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


before the gate, where were barrels of powder, bullets, flints, &e., 
and every one taking what suited; I saw the Indians also march off 
in rank entire—likewise the French Canadians, and some regulars. 
After viewing the Indians and French in different positions, I com¬ 
puted them to be about four hundred, and wondered that they 
attempted to go out against Braddock with so small a party. I was 
then in high hopes that I would soon see them fly before the British 
troops, and that General Braddock would take the fort and rescue me. 

I remained anxious to know the event of this day ; and, in the 
afternoon, I again observed a great noise and commotion in the fort, 
and though at that time I could not understand French, yet I found 
that it was the voice of joy and triumph, and feared that they had 
received what I called bad news. 

1 had observed some of the old country soldiers speak Dutch : as 
I spoke Dutch, I went to one of them, and asked him, what was 
the news? He told me that a runner had just arrived, who said 
that Braddock would certainly be defeated; that the Indians and 
French had surrounded him, and were concealed behind trees and 
in gullies, and kept a constant fire upon the English, and that they 
saw the English falling in heaps, and if they did not take the river, 
which was the only gap, and make their escape, there would not be 
one man left alive before sundown. Some time after this I heard a 
number of scalp halloos, and saw a company of Indians and French 
coming in. I observed they had a great many bloody scalps, grena¬ 
diers’ caps, British canteens, bayonets, &c. with them. They 
brought the news that Braddock was defeated. After that, another 
company came in, which appeared to be about one hundred, and 
chiefly Indians, and it seemed to me that almost every one of this 
company was carrying scalps ; after this came another company with 
a number of wagon horses, and also a great many scalps. Those 
that were coming in, and those that had arrived, kept a constant firing 
of small arms, and also the great guns in the fort, which were accom¬ 
panied with the most hideous shouts and yells from all quarters; so 
that it appeared to me as if the infernal regions had broke loose. 

About sundown I beheld a small party coming in with about a 
dozen prisoners, stripped naked, with their hands tied behind their 
backs, and their faces and part of their bodies blackened—these 
prisoners they burned to death on the bank of Allegheny river oppo¬ 
site to the fort. I stood on the fort wall until I beheld them begin 
to burn one of these men: they had him tied to a stake, and kept 
touching him with firebrands, red-hot irons, &c., and he screaming 
in the most doleful manner,—the Indians in the mean time yelling 
like infernal spirits. As this scene appeared too shocking for me to 
behold, I retired to my lodgings both sore and sorry. 

When I came into my lodgings I saw Russel’s Seven Sermons, 
which they had brought from the field of battle, which a Frenchman 
made a present of to me. From the best information I could receive, 
there were only seven Indians and four French killed in this battle, 
and five hundred British lay dead in the field, besides what were 
killed in the river on their retreat. 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH 


17 


The morning after the battle, I saw Braddock’s artillery brought 
into the fort; the same day I also saw several Indians in British 
officer’s dress, with sash, half moons, laced hats, &c., which the 
British then wore. 

A few days after this the Indians demanded me, and I was obliged 
to go with them. I was not well able to march, but they took me 
in a canoe up the Allegheny river, to an Indian town, that was on 
the north side of the river; about forty miles above Fort Du Quesne. 
Here 1 remained about three weeks, and was then taken to an Indian 
town on the west branch of Muskingum, about twenty miles above 
the forks, which was called, Tullihas, inhabited by Delawares, 
Caughnewagas and Mohicans. On our route betwixt the aforesaid 
towns, the country was chiefly black oak and white oak land, which 
appeared generally to be good wheat land, chiefly second and third 
rate, intermixed with some rich bottoms. 

The day after my arrival at the aforesaid town, a number of Indi¬ 
ans collected about me, and one of them began to pull the hair out of 
my head. He had some ashes on a piece of bark, in which he fre¬ 
quently dipped his fingers, in order to take the firmer hold, and so 
he went on, as if he had been plucking a turkey, until he had all 
the hair clean out of my head, except* a small spot about three or 
four inches square on my crown; this they cut off with a pair of 
scissors, excepting three locks, which ihey dressed up in their own 
mode. Two of these they wrapped round with a narrow beaded 
garter made by themselves for that purpose, and the other they plait¬ 
ed at full length, and then stuck it full of silver brooches. After 
this they bored my nose and ears, and fixed me off with ear-rings 
and nose jewels; then they ordered me to strip off my clothes and 
put on a breech-clout, which I did; they then painted my head, 
face, and body, in various colours. They put a large belt of wam¬ 
pum on my neck, and silver bands on my hands and right arm ; and 
so an old chief led me out in the street, and gave the alarm halloo, 
coo-ivigh, several times repeated quick; and on this, all that were 
in the town came running and stood round the old chief, who held 
me by the hand in the midst. As I at that time knew nothing of 
their mode of adoption, and had seen them put to death all they had 
taken, and as I never could find that they saved a man alive at Brad- 
dock’s defeat, I made no doubt but they were about putting me to 
death in some cruel manner. The old chief holding me by the 
hand, made a long speech, very loud, and when he had done, he 
handed me to three young squaws, who led me by the hand down 
the bank, into the river, until the water was up to our middle. The 
squaws then made signs to me to plunge myself into the water, but 
I did not understand them ;—I thought that the result of the council 
was, that I should be drowned, and that these young ladies were to 
be the executioners. They all three laid violent hold of me, and I 
for some time opposed them with all my might, which occasioned 
loud laughter by the multitude that were on the bank of the river. 
At length one of the squaws made out to speak a little English, (for 


18 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


I believe they began to be afraid of me) and said no hurt you ; on 
this I gave myself up to their ladyships, who were as good as their 
word; for though they plunged me under water, and washed and 
rubbed me severely, yet I could not say they hurt me much. 

These young women then led me up to the council house, where 
some of the tribe were ready with new clothes for me. They gave 
me a new ruffled shirt, which I put on, also a pair of leggins done 
off with ribbons and beads, likewise a pair of moccasins, and gar¬ 
ters dressed with beads, Porcupine quills, and red hair—also a tin¬ 
sel laced cappo. They again painted my head and face with various 
colours, and tied a bunch of red feathers to one of those locks they 
had left on the crown of my head, which stood up five or six inches. 
They seated me on a bearskin, and gave me a pipe, tomahawk, and 
polecat skin pouch, which had been skinned pocket fashion, and 
contained tobacco, killegenico, or dry sumach leaves, which they 
mix with their tobacco,—also spunk, flint and steel. When I was 
thus seated, the Indians came in dressed and painted in their grand¬ 
est manner. As they came in they took their seats, and for a con¬ 
siderable time there was a profound silence—every one was smoking 
—but not a word was spoken among them. At length one of the 
chiefs made a speech, which was delivered to me by an interpreter, 
and was as folioweth :—“ My son, you are now flesh of our flesh, 
and bone of our bone. By the ceremony which was performed this 
day, every drop of white blood was washed out of your veins; you 
are taken into the Caughnewago nation, and initiated into a warlike 
tribe ; you are adopted into a great family, and now received with 
great seriousness and solemnity in the room and place of. a great 
man. After what has passed this day, you are now one of us by an 
old strong law and custom—My son, you have now nothing to fear; 
we are now under the same obligations to love, support, and defend 
yon, that we are to love and defend one another; therefore, you are 
to consider yourself as one of our people.” At this time I did not 
believe this fine speech, especially that of the white blood being 
washed out of me; but since that time I have found that there was 
much sincerity in said speech,—for, from that day, I never knew 
them to make any distinction between me and themselves in any 
respect whatever until I left them. If they had plenty of clothing, 
I had plenty; if we were scarce, we all shared one fate. 

After this ceremony was over, I was introduced to my new kin, 
and told that I was to attend a feast that evening, which I did. And 
as the custom was, they gave me also a bowl and wooden spoon, 
which I carried with me to the place, where there was a number of 
large brass kettles full of boiled venison and green corn; every one 
advanced with his bowl and spoon, and had his share given him.— 
After this, one of the chiefs made a short speech, and then we 
began to eat. 

The name of one of the chiefs in this town was Teeanyaterighto, 
alias Pluggy, and the other Asallecoa, alias Mohawk Solomon. As 
Pluggy and his party were to start the next day to war, to the fron- 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


19 


tiers of Virginia, the next thing to be performed was the war dance, 
and their war songs. At their war dance they had both vocal and 
instrumental music—they had a short hollow gum, closed at one 
end, with water in it, and parchment stretched over the open end 
thereof, which they beat with one stick, and made a sound nearly 
like a muffled drum,—all those who were going on this expedition 
collected together and formed. An old Indian then began to sing, 
and timed the music by beating on this drum, as the ancients for¬ 
merly timed their music by beating the tabor. On this the warriors 
began to advance, or move forward in concert, like well disciplined 
troops would march to the fife and drum. Each warrior had a toma¬ 
hawk, spear, or war-mallet in his hand, and they all moved regularly 
towards the east, or the way they intended to go to war. At length 
they all stretched their tomahawks towards the Potomac, and giving 
a hideous shout or yell, they wheeled quick about, and danced in 
the same manner back. The next was the war song. In perform¬ 
ing this, only one sung at a time, in a moving posture, with a toma¬ 
hawk in his hand, while all the other warriors were engaged in 
calling aloud he-uh , he-uh , which they constantly repeated while the 
war song was going on. When the warrior that was singing had 
ended his song, he struck a war-post with his tomahawk, and with 
a loud voice told what warlike exploits he had done, and what he 
now intended to do, which were answered by. the other warriors 
with loud shouts of applause. Some who had not before intended 
to go to the war, at this time were so animated by this performance, 
that they t~ok up the tomahawk and sung the war song, which was 
answered with shouts of joy, as they were then initiated into the 
present marching company. The next morning this company all 
collected at one place, with their heads and faces painted with vari¬ 
ous colours, and packs upon their backs : they marched off, all 
silent, except the commander, who, in the front, sung the travelling 
song, which began in this manner: hoo caugh-tainte heegana .— 
Just as the rear passed the end of the town, they began to fire in 
their slow manner, trom the front to the rear, which was accompa¬ 
nied with shouts and yells from all quarters. 

This evening I was invited to another sort of dance, which was a 
kind of promiscuous dance. The young men stood in one rank, 
and the young women in another, about one rod apart, facing each 
other. The one that raised the tune, or started the song, held a small 
gourd or dry shell of a squash, in his hand, which contained beads 
or small stones, which rattled. When he began to sing, he timed 
the tune with his rattle; both men and women danced and sung 
together, advancing towards each other, stooping until their heads 
would be touching together, and then ceased from dancing, with 
loud shouts, and retreated and formed again, and so repeated the 
same thing over and over, for three or four hours, without itermis- 
sion. This exercise appeared to me at first, irrational and insipid ; 
but I found that in singing their tunes, they used yci ne no hoo wa 
ne, $'c., like our fa sol la, and though they have no such thing as 


20 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


jingling verse, yet they can intermix sentences with their notes, and 
say what they please to each other, and carry on the tune in con¬ 
cert. I found that this was a kind of wooing or courting dance, and 
as they advanced stooping with their heads together, they could say 
what they pleased in each other’s ear, without disconcerting their 
rough music, and the others, or those near, not hear what they said. 

Shortly after this I went out to hunt, in company with Mohawk 
Solomon, some of the Caughnewagas, and a Delaware Indian, that 
was married to a Caughnewaga squaw. We travelled about south 
from this town, and the first night we killed nothing, but we had 
with us green corn, which we roasted and ate that night. The next 
day we encamped about twelve o’clock, and the hunters turned out 
to hunt, and I went down the run that we encamped on, in company 
with some squaws and boys, to hunt plums, which we found in 
great plenty. On my return to camp I observed a large piece of fat 
meat: the Delaware Indian that could talk some English, observed 
me looking earnestly at this meat, and asked me, what meat you 
think that is ? I said I supposed it was bear meat; he laughed, 
and said, ho, all one fool you , heal now elly pool, and pointing to 
the other side of the camp, he said, look at that skin, you think 
that heal skin? I went and lifted the skin, which appeared like an 
ox-hide: he then said, what skin you think that? I replied, that 
I thought it was a buffalo hide; he laughed, and said, you fool 
again, you know nothing, you think buffalo that colo ? I acknowl¬ 
edged I did not know much about these things, and told him I never 
saw a buffalo, and that I had not heard what color they were. He 
replied, by and by you shall see gleat many buffalo: he now go to 
gleat lick. That skin not buffalo skin, that skin buck-elk skin. 
They went out with horses, and brought in the remainder of this 
buck-elk, which was the fattest creature I ever saw of the tallow kind. 

We remained at this camp about eight or ten days, and killed a 
number of deer. Though we had neither bread nor salt at this 
time, yet we had both roast and boiled meat in great plenty, and 
thev were frequently inviting me to eat when I had no appetite. 

We then moved to the buffalo lick, where we killed several buf¬ 
falo, arid in their small brass kettles they made about half a bushel 
of salt. I suppose this lick was about thirty or forty miles from 
the aforesaid town, and somewhere between the Muskingum, Ohio, 
and Sciota. About the lick was clear, open woods, and thin white 
oak land, and at that time there were large roads leading to the lick, 
like wagon roads. We moved from this lick about six or seven 
miles, and encamped on a creek. 

Though the Indians bad given me a gun, I had not yet been 
admitted to go out from the camp to hunt. At this place Mohawk 
Solomon asked me to go out with him to hunt, which I readily 
agreed to. After some time we came upon some fresh buffalo tracks. 

I had observed before this that the Indians were upon their guard, 
and afraid of an enemy; for, until now, they and the southern 
nations had bean at war. As we were following the buffalo tracks. 


COLONEL JAMES SMIRII. 


21 


Solomon seemed to be upon his guard, went very slow, and would 
frequently stand and listen, and appeared to be in suspense. We 
came to where the tracks were very plain in the sand, and I said, it 
is surely buffalo tracks ; he said, hush , you know nothing , may be 
buffalo tracks , may be Catawba. He went very cautious until we 
found some lresh buffalo dung: he then smiled, and said, Catawba 
cannot make so. He then stopped and told me an odd story about 
the Catawbas. He said, that formerly the Catawbas came near one 
of their hunting camps, and at some distance from the camp lay in 
ambush ; and in order to decoy them out, sent two or three Cataw¬ 
bas in the night, past their camp, with buffalo hoofs fixed on their 
feet, so as to make artificial tracks. In the morning, those in the 
camp followed after these tracks, thinking they were buffalo, until 
they were fired on by the Catawbas, and several of them killed ; the 
others lied, collected a party and pursued the Catawbas; but they, 
in their subtlety, brought with them rattlesnake poison, which they 
had collected from the bladder that lieth at the root of the snake’s 
teeth ; this they had corked up in a short piece of a cane stalk ; they 
had also brought with them small cane or reed, about the size of a 
rye straw, which they made sharp at the end like a pen, and dipped 
them into this poison, and stuck them in the ground among the 
grass, along their own tracks, in such a position that they might 
stick into the legs of the pursuers, which answered the design; and 
as the Catawbas had runners behind to watch the motion of the pur¬ 
suers, when they found that a number of them were lame, being 
artificially snake bit, and that they were all turning back, the Cataw¬ 
bas turned upon the pursuers, and defeated them, and killed and 
scalped all those that were lame. When Solomon had finished this 
story, and found that I understood him, concluded by saying, you 
dont know , Catawba velly bad Indian , Catawba all one devil 
Catawba. 

Some time after this, I was told to take the dogs with me, and go 
down the creek, perhaps I might kill a turkey; it being in the after¬ 
noon, I was also told not to go far from the creek, and to come up 
the creek again to the camp, and to take care not to get lost. When 
I had gone some distance down the creek, I came upon fresh buffalo 
tracks, and as I had a number of dogs with me to stop the buffalo, 
I concluded I would follow after and kill one; and as the grass and 
weeds were rank, I could readily follow the track. A little before 
sundown I despaired of coming up with them ; I was then thinking 
how I might get to camp before night: I concluded as the buffalo 
had made several turns, if I took the track back to the creek, it 
would be dark before I could get to the camp; therefore I thought I 
would take a nearer way through the hills, and strike the creek a 
little below the camp; but as it was cloudy weather, and I a very 
young woodsman, I could find neither creek nor camp. When 
night came on I fired my gun several times, and hallooed, but could 
have no answer. The next morning early, the Indians were out 
after me, and as I had with me ten or a dozen dogs, and the grass 


22 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


and weeds rank, they could readily follow my track. When they 
came up with me, they appeared to be in a very good humour. I 
asked Solomon if he thought 1 was running away, he said, no , no , 
you go too much clooked. On my return to camp they took my 
gun from me, and for this rash step I was reduced to a bow and 
arrows, for near two years. We were out on this tour for about 
six weeks. 

This country is generally hilly, though intermixed with consider¬ 
able quantities of rich upland, and some good bottoms. 

When we returned to the town, Pluggy and his party had arrived, 
and brought with them a considerable number of scalps and prison¬ 
ers from the south branch of the Potomac: they also brought with 
them an English Bible, which they gave to a Dutch woman who 
was a prisoner ; but as she could not read English, she made a pre¬ 
sent of it to me, which was very acceptable. 

I remained in this town 'until sometime in October, when my 
adopted brother, called Tontileaugo, who had married a Wyandot 
squaw, took me with him to Lake Erie. We proceeded up the 
west branch of Muskingum, and for some distance up the river the 
land was hilly, but intermixed with large bodies of tolerable rich 
upland, and excellent bottoms. We proceeded on to the head waters 
of the west branch of Muskingum. On the head waters of this 
branch, and from thence to the waters of Canesadooharie, there is 
a large body of rich, well lying land—the timber is ash, walnut, 
sugar-tree, buckeye, honey-locust, and cherry, intermixed with some 
oak, hickory, &c. This tour was at the time that black haws were 
ripe, and we were seldom out of sight of them: they were common 
here both in the bottoms and upland. 

On this route we had no horses with us, and when we started 
from the town, all the pack I carried was a pouch, containing my 
books, a little dried venison, and my blanket. I had then no gun, 
but Tontileaugo, who was a first rate hunter, carried a rifle gun, and 
every day killed deer, racoons, or bears. We left the meat, except¬ 
ing a little for present use, and carried the skins with us until we 
encamped, and then stretched them with elm bark, in a frame made 
with polls stuck in the ground, and tied together with lynn or elm 
bark; and when the skins were dried by the fire, we packed them 
up, and carried them with us the next day. 

As Tontileaugo could not speak English, I had to make use of all 
the Caughnewaga I had learned, even to talk very impertectly with 
him ; but I found I learned to talk Indian faster this way, than when 
I had those with me who could speak English. 

As we proceeded down the Canesadooharie waters, our packs 
increased by the skins that were daily killed, and became so very 
heavy that we could not march more than eight or ten miles per day. 
We came t® Lake Erie about six miles west of the mouth of Cane¬ 
sadooharie. As the wind was very high the evening we came to 
the lake, I was surprised to hear the roaring of the water, and see 
the high waves that dashed against the shore, like the ocean. We 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


23 


encamped on a run near the lake, and as the wind fell that night, the 
next morning the lake was onlv in a moderate motion, and we 
marched on the sand along the side of the water, frequently resting 
ourselves, as we were heavy laden. I saw on the strand a number 
of large fish, that had been left in flat or hollow places; as the 
wind fell and the waves abated, they were left without water, or only 
a small quantity; and numbers of bald and grey eagles, &c. were 
along the shore devouring them. 

Some time in the afternoon we came to a large camp of Wyan- 
dots, at the mouth of Canesadooharie, where Tontileaugo’s wife was. 
Here we were kindly received : they gave us a kind of rough, brown 
patatoes, which grew spontaneously, and were called by the Caugh- 
newagas ohenata. These potatoes peeled and dipped in racoon’s 
fat, taste nearly like our sweet potatoes. They also gave us what 
they call caneheanta , which is a kind of homony, made of green 
corn, dried, and beans mixed together. 

From the head waters of Canesadooharie to this place, the land is 
generally good; chiefly first or second rale, and, comparatively, lit¬ 
tle or no third rate. The only refuse is some swamps, that appear 
to be too wet for use, yet 1 apprehend that a number of them, if 
drained, would make excellent meadows. The timber is black oak, 
walnut, hickory, cherry, locust, honey-locust, sugar tree, and elm: 
there is also some land, though, comparatively, but small, where the 
timber is chiefly white oak, or beech—this may be called third rate. 
In the bottoms, and also many places in the upland, there is a large 
quantity of wild apple, plum, and red and black haw trees. It ap¬ 
peared to be well watered, and a plenty of meadow ground, inter¬ 
mixed with upland, but no large prairies or glades, that I saw or 
heard of. In this route, deer, bear, turkeys, and racoons, appeared 
plenty, but no buffalo, and very little sign of elks. 

We continued our camp at the mouth of Canesadooharie for 
some time, where we killed some deer, and a great many racoons; 
the racoons here were remarkably large and fat. At length we all 
embarked in a large birch bark canoe. This vessel was about four 
feet wide, and three feet deep, and about five and thirty feet long: 
and though it could carry a heavy burden, it was so artfully and curi¬ 
ously constructed, that four men could carry it several miles, or from 
one landing place to another, or from the waters of the lake to the 
waters of the Ohio. We proceeded up Canesadooharie a few miles, 
and went on shore to hunt; but to my great surprise they carried 
the vessel that we all came in up the bank, and inverted it or turned 
the bottom up, and converted it into a dwelling house, and kindled a 
fire before us to warm ourselves by and cook. With our baggage 
and ourselves in this house we were very much crowded, yet our 
little house turned off the rain very well. 

We kept moving and hunting up this river until we came to the 
falls; here we remained some weeks, and killed a number of deer, 
several bears, and a great many racoons. From the mouth of this 
river to the falls is about five and twenty miles. On our passage up 


24 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


I was not much out from the river, but what I saw was good land 
and not hilly. 

About the falls is thin chesnut land, which is almost the only ches- 
nut timber I ever saw in this country. 

While we remained here, I left my pouch with my books in camp, 
wrapt up in my blanket, and went out to hunt chesnuts. On my 
return to camp my books were missing. I inquired after them, and 
asked the Indians if they knew where they were; they told me that 
they supposed the puppies had carried them off. I did not believe 
them; but thought they were displeased at my poring over my 
books, and concluded that they had destroyed them, or put them 
out of my way. 

After this I was again out after nuts, and on my return beheld a 
new erection, composed of two white oak saplings, that were forked 
about twelve feet high, and stood about fifteen feet apart. They had 
cut these saplings at the forks, and laid a strong poll across, which 
appeared in the form of a gallows, and the posts they had shaved 
very smooth, and painted in places with vermilion. I could not 
conceive the use of this piece of work, and at length concluded it 
was a gallows. I thought that I had displeased them by reading 
my books, and that they were about putting me to death. The next 
morning I observed them bringing their skins all to this place, and 
hanging them over this poll, so as to preserve them from being inju¬ 
red by the weather. This removed my fears. They also buried 
their large canoe in the ground, which is the way they took to pre¬ 
serve this sort of a canoe in the winter season. 

As we had at this time no horses, every one got a pack on his 
back, and we steered an east course about twelve miles and encamp¬ 
ed. The next morning we proceeded on the same course about ten 
miles to a large creek that empties into Lake Erie, betwixt Canesa- 
dooharie and Cayahaga. Here they made their winter cabin in the 
following form: they cut logs about fifteen feet long, and laid these 
logs upon each other, and drove posts in the ground at each end to 
keep them together; the posts they tied together at the top with 
bark, and by this means raised a wall fifteen feet long, and about 
four feet high, and in the same manner they raised another wall op¬ 
posite to this, at about twelve feet distance ; then they drove forks in 
the ground in the centre of each end, and laid a strong poll from end 
to end on these forks; and from these walls to the polls, they set up 
polls instead of rafters, and on these they tied small polls in place of 
laths; and a cover was made of lynn bark, which will run even in 
the winter season. 

As every tree will not run, they examine the tree first, by trying 
it near the ground, and when they find it will do, they fell the tree 
and raise the bark with the tomahawk, near the top of the tree, about 
five or six inches broad, then put the tomahawk handle under this 
bark, and pull it along dowji to the butt of the tree; so that some¬ 
times one piece of bark will be thirty feet long; this bark they cut 
&t suitable lengths in order to cover the hut. 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH, 


25 


At the end of these walls they set up split timber, so that they 
had timber all round, excepting a door at each end. At the top, in 
place of a chimney, they left an open place, and for bedding they 
laid down the aforesaid kind of bark, on which they spread bear 
skins. From end to end of this hut along the middle there were 
fires, which the squaws made of dry split wood, and the holes or 
open places that appeared, the squaws stopped with moss, which 
they collected from old logs ; and at the door they hung a bear skin; 
and notwithstanding the winters are hard here, our lodging was 
much better than what I expected. 

It was some time in December, when we finished this winter cab¬ 
in ; but when we had got into this comparatively fine lodging, 
another difficulty arose, we had nothing to eat. While I was trav¬ 
elling with Tontileaugo, as was before mentioned, and had plenty 
of fat venison, bear’s meat and racoons, I then thought it was hard 
living without bread or salt; but now I began to conclude, that if I 
had any thing that would banish pinching hunger, and keep soul 
and body together, I would be content. 

While the hunters were all out, exerting themselves to the utmost 
of their ability, the squaws and boys (in which class I was,) were 
scattered out in the bottoms, hunting red haws, black haws, and 
hickory nuts. As it was too late in the year, we did not succeed 
in gathering haws; but we had tolerable success in scratching up 
hickory nuts from under a light snow, which we carried with us lest 
the hunters should not succeed. After our return the hunters came 
in, who had killed only two small turkeys, which were but little 
among eight hunters, and thirteen squaws, boys, and children ; but 
they were divided with the greatest equity and justice—every one 
got their eqal share. 

The next day the hunters turned out again, and killed one deer 
and three bears. 

One of the bears was very large and remarkably fat. The hunt¬ 
ers carried in meat sufficient to give us all 3 hearty supper and 
breakfast. 

The squaws and all that could carry, turned out to bring in meat— 
every one had their share assigned them, and my load was among 
the least; yet, not being accustomed to carrying in this way, I got 
exceeding weary, and told them my load was too heavy, I must 
leave part of it and come for it again. They made a halt, and only 
laughed at me, and took part of my lead and added it to a young 
squaw’s, who had as much before as I carried. 

This kind of reproof had a greater tendency to excite me to exert 
myself in carrying without complaining, than if they had whipped 
me for laziness. After this the hunters held a council, and conclu¬ 
ded that they must have horses to carry their loads ; and that they 
would go to war even in this inclement season, in order to bring 
in horses. 

Tontileaugo wished to be one of those who should go to war; 
but the votes went against him; as he was one of the best hunters, 
3 


26 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


it was thought necessary to leave him at this winter camp to pro¬ 
vide for the squaws and children; it was agreed upon that Tonti- 
leaugo and three others should stay, and hunt and the other four 
go to war. 

They then began to go through their common ceremony. They 
sung their war songs, danced their war dances, &c. And when 
they were equipped, they went off singing their marching song, 
and firing their guns. Our camp appeared to be rejoicing; but I 
was grieved to think that some innocent persons would be murdered, 
not thinking of danger. 

After the departure of these warriors we had hard times ; and 
though we were not altogether out of provisions, we were brought 
to short allowance. At length Tontileaugo had considerable suc¬ 
cess, and we had meat brought into camp sufficient to last ten days. 
Tontileaugo then took me with him in order to encamp some dis¬ 
tance from this winter cabin, to try his luck there. We carried no 
provision with us; he said he would leave what was there for the 
squaws and children, and that we could shift for ourselves. We 
steered about a south course up the waters of this creek, and en¬ 
camped about ten or twelve miles from the winter cabin. As it was 
still cold weather and a crust upon the snow, which made a noise as 
we walked and alarmed the deer, we could kill nothing, and conse¬ 
quently went to sleep without supper. The only chance we had, 
under these circumstances, was to hunt bear holes; as the bears 
about Christmas search out a winter lodging place, where they lie 
about three or four months without eating or drinking. This may 
appear to some incredible ; but it is now well known to be the case, 
by those who live in the remote western parts ol North America. 

The next morning early we proceeded on, and when we found a 
tree scratched by the bears climbing up, and the hole in the tree 
sufficiently large for the reception of the bear, we then felled a sap¬ 
ling or small tree, against or near the hole; and it was my business 
to climb up and drive out the bear, while Tontileaugo stood ready 
with his gun and bow. We went on in this manner until evening, 
without success; at length we found a large elm scratched, and a 
hole in it about forty feet up; but no tree nigh, suitable to lodge 
against the hole. Tontileaugo got a long pole and some dry rotten 
wood, which he tied in bunches with bark; and as there was a tree 
that grew near the elm, and extended up near the hole, but leaned 
the wrong way, so that we could not lodge it to advantage, to rem¬ 
edy this inconvenience, he climbed up this tree and carried with him 
his rotten wood, fire and pole. The rotten wood he tied to his belt, 
and to one end of the pole he tied a hook, and a piece of rotten 
wood which he set fire to, as it would retain fire almost like spunk, 
and reached this hook from limb to limb as he went up; when he 
got up, with this pole he put dry wood on fire into the hole; after 
he put in the fire he heard the bear snuff, and he came speedily 
down, took his gun in his hand, and waited until the bear would 
come out; but it was some time before it appeared, and when it did 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


27 


appear, he attempted taking sight with his rifle; but it being then 
too dark to see the sights, he set it down by a tree, and instantly 
bent his bow, took hold of an arrow, and shot the bear a little behind 
the shoulder; I was preparing also to shoot an arrow, but he called 
to me to stop, there was no occasion; and with that the bear fell to 
the ground. 

Being very hungry we kindled a fire, opened the bear, took out 
the liver, and wrapped some of the caul fat round, and put it on a 
wooden spit, which we stuck in the ground by the fire to roast; we 
then skinned the bear, got on our kettle, and had both roast and 
boiled, and also sauce to our meat, which appeared to me to be deli¬ 
cate fare. After I was fully satisfied I went to sleep; Tontileaugo 
awoke me, saying, come eat hearty, we have got meat plenty now. 

The next morning we cut down a lynn tree, peeled bark and made 
a snug little shelter, facing the south-east, with a large log betwixt 
us and the north-west; we made a good fire before us, and scaffolded 
up our meat at one side. When we had finished our camp we went 
out to hunt, searched two trees for bears, but to no purpose. As 
the snow thawed a little in the afternoon, Tontileaugo killed a deer, 
which we carried with us to camp. 

The next day we turned out to hunt, and near the camp we found 
a tree well scratched ; but the hole was above forty feet high, and no 
tree that we could lodge against the hole; but finding that it was 
very hollow, we concluded that we would cut down the tree with our 
tomahawks, which kept us working a considerable part of the day. 
When the tree fell wc ran up, Tontileaugo with his gun and bow, 
and I with my bow ready bent. Tontileaugo shot the bear through 
with his rifle, a little behind the shoulders ; I also shot, but too far 
back ; and not being then- much accustomed to the business, my 
arrow penetrated only a few inches through the skin. Having kil¬ 
led an old she bear and three cubs, we hauled her on the snow to 
the camp, and only had time afterwards, to get wood, make a fire, 
cook, &c. before dark. 

Early the next morning we went to business, searched several 
trees, but found no bears. On our way home we took three racoons 
out of a hollow elm, not far from the ground. 

We remained here about two weeks, and in this time killed four 
bears, three deer, several turkeys, and a number of racoons. We 
packed up as much meat as we could carry, and returned to our 
winter cabin. On our arrival, there was great joy, as they were all 
in a starving condition,—the three hunters that we had left having 
killed but very little. All that could carry a pack, repaired to our 
camp to bring in meat. 

Some time in February the four warriors returned, who had taken 
two scalps, and six horses from the frontiers of Pennsylvania. The 
hunters could then scatter out a considerable distance from the win^ 
ter cabin, and encamp, kill meat and bring it in upon horses; so 
that we commonly after this had plenty of provision. 

In this month we began to make sugar. As some of the elm 


28 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


bark will strip at this season, the squaws, after finding a tree that 
■would do, cut it down, and with a crooked stick, broad and sharp at 
the end, took the bark off the tree, and of this bark made vessels in 
a curious manner, that would hold about two gallons each: they 
made above one hundred of these kind of vessels. In the sugar- 
tree they cut a notch, sloping down, and at the end of the notch, 
stuck in a tamahawk ; in the place where they stuck the tomakawk, 
they drove a long chip, in order to carry the water out from the 
tree, and under this they set their vessel to receive it. As sugar- 
trees were plenty and large here, they seldom or never notched a 
tree that was not two or three feet over. They also made bark ves¬ 
sels for carrying the water, that would hold about four gallons each. 
They had two brass kettles, that held about fifteen gallons each, and 
other smaller kettles in which they boiled the water. But as they 
could not at all times boil away the water as fast as it was collected, 
they made vessels of bark, that would hold about one hundred gal¬ 
lons each, for retaining the water; and though the sugar-trees did 
not run every day, they had always a sufficient quantity of water to 
keep them boiling during the whole sugar season. 

The way that we commonly used our sugar while encamped, was 
by putting it in bear’s fat until the fat was almost as sweet as the 
sugar itself, and in this we dipped our roasted venison. About this 
time some of the Indian lads and myself, were employed in making 
and attending traps for catching racoons, foxes, wild cats, &c. 

As the racoon is a kind of water animal, that frequents the runs, 
or small water courses, almost the whole night, we made our traps 
on the runs, by laying one small sapling on another, and driving in 
posts to keep them from rolling, The upper sapling we raised 
about eighteen inches, and set so that on the racoon’s touching a 
string, or small piece of bark, the sapling would fall and kill it; and 
lest the racoon should pass by, we laid brush on both sides of the 
run, only leaving the channel open. 

The fox traps we made nearly in the same manner, at the end of 
a hollow log, or opposite to a hole at the root of a tree, and put 
venison on a stick for bait: we had it so set, that when the fox took 
hold of the meat, the trap fell. While the squaws were employed 
in making sugar, the boys and men were engaged in hunting and 
trapping. 

About the latter end of March, we began to prepare for moving 
into town, in order to plant corn : the squaws were then frying the 
last of their bear’s fat, and making vessels to hold it: the vessels 
were made of deer skins, which were skinned by pulling the skin 
off the neck, without ripping. After they had taken off the hair, 
they gathered it in small plaits round the neck and with a string 
drew it together like a purse: in the centre a pin was put, below 
which they tied a string, and while it was wet they blew it up like 
a bladder, and let it remain in this manner until it was dry, when it 
appeared nearly in the shape of a sugar loaf, but more rounding at 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


29 


the lower end. One of these vessels would hold about four or five 
gallons ; in these vessels it was they carried their bear’s oil. 

When all things were ready, we moved back to the falls of Cane- 
sadooharie. In this route the land is chiefly first and second rate ; 
but too much meadow ground, in proportion to the upland. The 
timber is white ash, elm, black oak, cherry, buckeye, sugar-tree, 
lynn, mulberry, beech, white oak, hickory, wild appletree, red haw, 
black haw, and spicewood bushes. There is in some places, spots 
of beech timber, which spots may be called third rate land. Buck¬ 
eye, sugar-tree and spicewood, are common in the woods here. 
There is, in some places, large swamps too wet for any use. 

On our arrival at the falls, (as we had brought with us on horse¬ 
back, about two hundred weight of sugar, a large quantity of bear’s 
oil, skins, &c.) the canoe we had buried was not sufficient to carry 
all; therefore we were obliged to make another of elm bark. While 
we lay here, a young Wyandot found my books : on this they col¬ 
lected together; I was a little way from the camp, and saw the col¬ 
lection, but did not know what it meant. They called me by my 
Indian name, which was Scoouwa, repeatedly. I ran to see what 
was the matter; they showed me my books, and said they were 
glad they had been found, for they knew I was grieved at the loss 
of them, and that they now rejoiced with me because they were 
found. As I could then speak some Indian, especially Caughne- 
waga, (for both that and the Wyandot tongue were spoken in this 
camp,) I told them that I thanked them for the kindness they had 
always shown to me, and also for finding my books. They asked 
if the books were damaged ? I told them not much. They then 
showed how they lay, which was in the best manner to turn oft' the 
water. In a deer skin poueh they lay all winter. The print was 
not much injured, though the binding was. This was the first time 
that I felt my heart warm towards the Indians. Though they had 
been exceedingly kind to me, I still before detested them, on account 
of the barbarity I beheld after Braddock’s defeat. Neither had I 
ever before pretended kindness, or expressed myself in a friendly 
maimer; but I began now to excuse the Indians on account of their 
want of information. 

When we were ready to embark, Tontileaugo would not go to 
town, but go up the river and take a hunt. lie asked me if I choo- 
sed to go with him ? I told him I did. We then got some sugar, 
bear’s oil bottled up in a bear’s gut, and some dry venison, which 
we packed up, and went up Canesadooharie, about thirty miles, and 
encamped. At this time I did not know either the day of the week, 
or the month ; but l supposed it to be about the first of April. We 
had considerable success in our business. We also found some 
stray horses, or a horse, mare, and a young colt; and though they 
had run in the woods all winter, they were in exceeding good order. 
There is plenty of grass here all winter, under the snow, and hor¬ 
ses accustomed to the woods can work it out. These horses had 
run in the woods until they were very wild. 

3 * 


30 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


Tontileaugo one night concluded that we must run them down, 
I told him 1 thought we could not accomplish it. He said he had 
run down bears, buffaloes and elks : and in the great plains, with 
only a small snow on the ground, he had run down a deer; and he 
thought that in one whole day, he could tire, or run down any four 
footed animal except a wolf. I told him that though a deer was the 
swiftest animal to run a short distance, yet it would tire sooner than 
a horse. He said he would at all events try the experiment. He 
had heard the Wyandots say, that I could run well, and now he 
would see whether I could or not. I told him that I never had run 
all day, and of course was not accustomed to that way of running. 
I never had run with the Wyandots, more than seven or eight miles 
at one time. He said that was nothing, we must either catch these 
horses, or run all day. 

In the morning early we left camp, and about sunrise we started 
after them, stripped naked excepting breech-clouts and moccasins, 
About ten o’clock I lost sight of both Tontileaugo and the horses, 
and did not see them again until about three o’clock in the afternoon. 
As the horses run all day, in about three or four miles square, at 
length they passed where I was, and 1 fell in close after them. As 
I then had a long rest, I endeavoured to keep ahead of Tontileaugo, 
and alter some time I could hear him after me calling chakoh , clia - 
koanaugh, which signifies, pull away or do your best. We pursu¬ 
ed on, and after some time Tontileaugo passed me, and about an 
hour before sundown, we despaired of catching these horses, and 
returned to camp where we had left our clothes. 

I reminded Tontileaugo of what I had told him ; he replied he 
did not know what horses could do. They are wonderful strong to 
run; but withal we made them very tired. Tontileaugo then con¬ 
cluded, he would do as the Indians did with wild horses, when out 
at war: which is to shoot them through the neck under the mane, 
and above the bone, which will cause them to fall and lie until thev 
can halter them, and then they recover again. This he attempted to 
do ; but as the mare was very wild, he could not get sufficiently 
nigh to shoot her in the proper place; however he shot, the ball 
passed too low, and killed her. As the horse and colt stayed at this 
place, we caught the horse and took him and the colt with us to camp. 

We stayed at this camp about two weeks, and killed a number of 
bears, racoons, and some beavers. We made a canoe of elm bark, 
and Tontileaugo embarked in it. He arrived at the falls that night: 
whilst I, mounted on horseback, with a bear skin saddle, and bark 
stirrups, proceeded by land to the falls: I came there the next mor¬ 
ning, and we carried our canoe and loading past the falls. 

The river is very rapid for some distance above the falls, which 
are about twelve or fifteen feet nearly perpendicular. This river 
called Canesadooharie, interlocks with the West Branch of Musk¬ 
ingum, runs nearly a north course, and empties into the south side 
of Lake Erie, about eight miles east from Sandusky, or betwixt 
Sandusky and Cayahaga. 


COLONEL JAME9 SMITH. 


31 


On this last route the land is nearly the same as that last descri¬ 
bed, only there is not so much swampy or wet ground. 

We again proceeded towards the lake, I on horseback, and Tonti- 
leaugo by water. Here the land is generally good, but I found some 
difficulty in getting round swamps and ponds. When we came to 
the lake, 1 proceeded along the strand, and Tontileaugo near the 
shore, sometimes paddling, and sometimes poling his canoe along. 

Alter some time the wind arose, and he went into the mouth of a 
small creek and encamped. Here we staid several days on account 
of high wind, which raised the lake in great billows. While we 
were here, Tontileaugo went out to hunt, and when he was gone, a 
Wyandot came to our camp; I gave him a shoulder of venison 
which 1 had by the fire, well roasted, and he received it gladly, told 
me he was hungry, and thanked me for my kindness. When Ton¬ 
tileaugo came home, I told him that a Wyandot had been at camp, 
and that I gave him a shoulder of venison : he said that was very 
well, and I suppose you gave him also sugar and bear’s oil, to eat 
with his venison. I told him I did not; as the sugar and bear’s oil 
was down in the canoe, I did not go for it. He replied, you have 
behaved just like a Dutchman.* Do you not know that when stran¬ 
gers come to our camp, we ought always to give them the best that 
we have. I acknowledged that I was wrong. He said that he could 
excuse this as I was but young; but 1 must learn to behave like a 
warrior, and do great things, and never be found in any such little 
actions. 

The lake being again calm,t we proceeded, and arrived safe at 
Sunyendeand, which was a Wyandot town, that lay upon a small 
creek which empties into the little lake below the mouth of Sandusky. 

The town was about eighty rood above the mouth of the creek, 
on the south side of a large plain, on which timber grew, and noth¬ 
ing more but grass or nettles. In some places there were large flats, 
where nothing but grass grew, about three feet high when grown, 
and in other places nothing but nettles, very rank, where the soil is 
extremely rich and loose—here they planted corn. In this town 
there were also French traders, who purchased our skins and fur, 
and we all got new clothes, paint, tobacco, &c. 

After I had got my new clothes, and my head done off' like a red¬ 
headed woodpecker, I, in company with a number of young Indi¬ 
ans, went down to the corn field, to see the squaws at work. When 
we came there, they asked me to take a hoe, which I did, and hoed 
for some time. The squaws applauded me as a good hand at the 
business; but when I returned to the town, the old men hearing of 
what I had done, chid me, and said that I was adopted in the place 
of a great man, and must not hoe corn like a squaw. They never 

•The Dutch he called Skoharehaugo, which took its derivation from a Dutch 
settlement called Sknharey. 

+ The lake, when calm, appears to be of a sky blue colour; though when lilted 
in a vessel, it is like other clear water. 


32 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


had occasion to reprove me for any thing like this again ; as I never 
was extremely fond of work, I readily complied with their orders. 

As the Indians on their return from their winter hunt, bring in 
with them large quantities of bear’s oil, sugar, dried venison, &c., 
at this time they have plenty, and do not spare eating or giving— 
thus they make away with their provision as quick as possible. 
They have no such thing as regular meals, breakfast, dinner, or sup¬ 
per; but if any one, even the town folks, would go to the same house 
several times in one day, he would be invited to eat of the best— 
and with them it is bad manners to refuse to eat when it is offered. 
If they will not eat, it is interpreted as a symptom of displeasure, 
or that the persons refusing to eat, were angry with those who in¬ 
vited them. 

At this time homony, plentifully mixed with bear’s oil and sugar, 
is what they offer to every one who comes in any time of the day ; 
and so they go on until their sugar, bear’s oil and venison is all 
gone, and then they have to eat homony by itself, without bread, 
salt, or any thing else; yet, still they invite every one that comes 
in, to eat whilst they have any thing to give. It is thought a shame 
not to invite people to eat, while they have any thing; but if they 
can, in truth, only say, we have got nothing to eat, this is accepted 
as an honorable apology. All the hunters and warriors continued 
in town about six weeks after we came in: they spent this time in 
painting, going from house to house, eating, smoking, and playing 
at a game resembling dice, or hustle cap. They put a number of 
plum stones in a small bowl; one side of each stone is black, and 
the other white; they then shake or hustle the bowl, calling, hits, 
hits, hits , honesey , honesey , rego , rego ; which signifies calling for 
white or black, or what they wish to turn up; they then turn the 
bowl, and count the whites and blacks. Some were beating their 
kind of drum, and singing; others were employed in playing on a 
sort of flute, made of hollow cane ; and others playing on the jew’s 
harp. Some part of this time was also taken up in attending the 
council house, where the chiefs, and as many others as chose, 
attended ; and at night they were frequently employed in singing 
and dancing. Towards the last of this time, which was in June, 
1756, they were all engaged in preparing to go to war against the 
frontiers of Virginia: when they were equipped, they went through 
their ceremonies, sung their war songs, &c. They all marched off, 
from fifteen to sixteen years of age; and some boys, only twelve 
years old, were equipped with their bows and arrows, and went to 
war; so that none were left in town but squaws and children, 
except myself, one very old man, and another, about fifty years of 
age, who was lame. 

The Indians were then in great hopes that they would drive all the 
Virginians over the lake, which is all the name they know for the 
sea. They had some cause for this hope, because, at this time, the 
Americans were altogether unacquainted with war of any kind, and 
consequently very unfit to stand their hand with such subtle enemies 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


33 


as the Indians were. The two old Indians asked me if I did not 
think that the Indians and French would subdue all America, except 
New England, which they said they had tried in old times. I told 
them I thought not: they said they had already drove them all out 
of the mountains, and had chiefly laid waste the great valley, 
betwixt the North and South mountain, from Potomack to James 
river, which is a considerable part of the best land in Virginia, 
Maryland, and Pennsylvania, and that the white people appeared to 
them like fools; they could neither guard against surprise, run, nor 
fight. These, they said, were their reasons for saying that they 
would subdue the whites. They asked me to offer my reasons for 
my opinion, and told me to speak my mind freely. I told them that 
the white people to the east were very numerous, like the trees, 
and though they appeared to them to be fools, as they were not 
acquainted with their way of war, yet they were not fools ; there¬ 
fore, after some time, they will learn your mode of war, and turn 
upon you, or at least defend themselves. I found that the old men 
themselves did not believe they could conquer America, yet they 
were willing to propagate the idea, in order to encourage the young 
men to go to war. 

When the warriors left this town, we had neither meat, sugar, or 
bear’s oil left. All that we had then to live on was corn pounded 
into coarse meal or small homony—this they boiled in water, which 
appeared like well thickened soup, without salt or any thing else. 
For some time we had plenty of this kind of homony; at length 
we were brought to very short allowance, and as the warriors did 
not return as soon as they expected, we were in a starving condi¬ 
tion, and but one gun in the town, and very little ammunition. 
The old lame Wyandot concluded that he would go a hunting in the 
canoe, and take me with him, and try to kill deer in the water, as it 
was then watering time. We went up Sandusky a few miles, then 
turned up a creek and encamped. We had lights prepared, as we 
were to hunt in the night, and also a piece of bark and some bushes 
set up in the canoe, in order to conceal ourselves from the deer. A 
little boy that was with us held the light; I worked the canoe, and 
the old man, who had his gun loaded with large shot, when we 
came near the deer, fired, and in this manner killed three deer in 
part of one night. We went to our fire, ate heartily, and in the 
morning returned to town, in order to relieve the hungry and dis¬ 
tressed. 

When we came to town, the children were crying bitterly on 
account of pinching hunger. We delivered what we had taken, and 
though it was but little among so many, it was divided according to 
the strictest rules of justice. We immediately set out for another 
hunt, but before we returned a part of the warriors had come in, and 
brought with them on horseback a quantity of meat. These war¬ 
riors had divided into different parties, and all struck at different 
places in Augusta county. They brought in with them a consider¬ 
able number of scalps, prisoners, horses, and other plunder. One 


34 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


of the parties brought in with them one Arthur Campbell, that is 
now Colonel Campbell, who lives on the Holston river, near the 
Royal Oak. As the Wyandots at Sunyendeand, and those at 
Detroit were connected, Mr. Campbell was taken to Detroit; but he 
remained some time with me in this town : his company was very 
agreeable, and I was sorry when he left me. During this stay at 
Sunyendeand he borrowed my bible, and made some pertinent re¬ 
marks on what he had read. One passage where it is said, “ It is good 
for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth.” He said we ought 
to be resigned to the will of Providence, as we were now bearing 
the yoke in our youth. Mr. Campbell appeared to be then about 
sixteen or seventeen years of age. 

There was a number of prisoners brought in by these parties, and 
when they were to run the gauntlet, 1 went and told them how 
they were to act. One John Savage was brought in, and a middle 
aged man, or about forty years old. He was to run the gauntlet. 
I told him what he had to do ; and after this I fell into one of the 
ranks with the Indians, shouting and yelling like them ; and as they 
were not very severe on him, as he passed me, I hit him with a 
piece of a pumpkin—which pleased the Indians much, but hurt my 
feelings. 

About the time that these warriors came in, the green corn was 
beginning to be of use, so that we had either green corn or venison, 
and sometimes both, which was, comparatively, high living. When 
we could have plenty of green corn, or roasting ears, the hunters 
became lazy, and spent their time, as already mentioned, in singing 
and dancing, &c. They appeared to be fulfilling the scriptures 
beyond those who profess to believe them, in that of taking no 
thought of to-morrow; and also in love, peace, and friendship 
together, without disputes. In this respect, they shame those who 
profess Christianity. 

In this manner we lived until October; then the geese, swans, 
ducks, cranes, &c. came from the north, and alighted on this little 
lake, without number, or innumerable. Sunyendeand is a remark¬ 
able place for fish in the spring, and fowl both in the fall and spring. 

As our hunters were now tired with indolence, and fond of their 
own kind of exercise, they all turned out to fowling, and in this 
could scarce miss of success; so that we had now plenty of homony 
and the best of fowls ; and sometimes, as a rarity, we had a little 
bread made of Indian corn meal, pounded in a homony block, mixed 
with boiled beans, and baked in cakes under the ashes. 

This with us was called good living, though not equal to our fat, 
roasted, and boiled venison, when we went to the woods in the fall; 
or bear’s meat and beaver in the winter; or sugar, bear’s oil, and 
dry venison in the spring. 

Some time in October, another adopted brother, older than Tonti- 
leaugo, came to pay us a visit at Sunyendeand, and asked me to 
take a hunt with him on Cayahaga. As they always used me as a 
freeman, and gave me the liberty of choosing, I told him that I was 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


35 


attached to Tontileaugo—had never seen him before, and therefore 
asked some time to consider of this. He told me that the party he 
was going with would not be along, or at the mouth of this little 
lake, in less than six days, and I could in this .time be acquainted 
with him, and judge for myself. I consulted with Tontileaugo on 
this occasion, and he told me that our old brother Tecaughretanego, 
(which was his name) was a chief, and a better man than he was ; 
and if I went with him I might expect to be well used, but he said 
I might do as 1 pleased; and if I staid he would use me as he had 
done. I told him that he had acted in every respect as a brother to 
me; yet I was much pleased with my old brother’s conduct and 
conversation; and as he was going to a part of the country I had 
never been in, I wished to go with him. He said that he was per¬ 
fectly willing. 

I then went with Tecaughretanego to the mouth of the little lake, 
where he met with the company he intended going with, which was 
composed of Caughnewagas and Ottawas.—Here I was introduced 
to a Caughnewaga sister, and others I had never before seen. My 
sister’s name was Mary, which they pronounced Maully. I asked 
Tecaughretanego how it came that she had an English name; he 
said that he did not know that it was an English name ; but it was 
the name the priest gave her when she was baptized, which he said 
was the name of the mother of Jesus. He said there w'ere a great 
many of the Caughnewagas and Wyandots that were a kind of half 
Roman Catholics; but as for himself, he said, that the priest and 
him could not agree, as they held notions that contradicted both 
sense and reason, and had the assurance to tell him, that the book of 
God taught them these foolish absurdities : but he could not believe 
the great and good Spirit ever taught them any such nonsense ; and 
therefore he concluded that the Indian’s old religion was better than 
this new way of worshipping God. 

The Ottawas have a very useful kind of tents which they carry 
with them, made of flags, plaited and stitched together in a very 
artful manner, so as to turn the rain or wind well,—each mat is 
made fifteen feet long, and about five feet broad. In order to erect 
this kind of tent, they cut a number .if long straight poles, which 
they drive in the ground, in the form of a circle, leaning inwards ; 
then they spread the mats on these poles, beginning at the bottom 
and extending up, leaving only a hole in the top uncovered—and 
this hole answers the place of a chimney. They make fire of dry 
split wood in the middle, and spread down bark mats and skins for 
bedding, on which they sleep in a crooked posture, all round the 
fire, as the length of their beds will not admit of stretching them¬ 
selves. In place of a door they lift up one end of a mat and creep 
in, and let the mat fall down behind them. 

These tents are warm and dry, and tolerably clear of smoke. 
Their lumber they keep under birch-bark canoes, which they carry 
out and turn up lor a shelter, where they keep every thing from the 
rain. Nothing is in the tents but themselves and their bedding. 


36 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


This company had four birch canoes and four tents. We were 
kindly received, and they gave us plenty of homony and wild fowl 
boiled and roasted. As the geese, ducks, swans, &c. here are well 
grain-fed, they were remarkably fat, especially the green necked 
ducks. The wild fowl here feed upon a kind of wild rice that 
grows spontaneously in the shallow water, or wet places along the 
sides or in the corners of the lakes. 

As the wind was high and we could not proceed on our voyage, 
we remained here several days, and killed abundance of wild fowl, 
and a number of racoons. 

When a company of Indians are moving together on the lake, as 
it is at this time of the year often dangerous sailing, the old men 
hold a council; and when they agree to embark, every one is 
engaged immediately in making ready, without offering one word 
against the measure, though the lake may be boisterous and horrid. 
One morning, though the wind appeared to me to be as high as in 
days past, and the billows raging, yet the call was given yohoh- 
yohoh, which was quickly answered by all— ooh-ooh which signi¬ 
fies agreed. We were all instantly engaged in preparing to start, 
and had considerable difficulties in embarking. 

As soon as we got into our canoes we fell to paddling with all our 
might, making out from the shore. Though these sort of canoes 
ride waves beyond what could be expected, yet the water several 
times dashed into them. When we got out about half a mile from 
shore, we hoisted sail, and as it was nearly a west wind, we then 
seemed to ride the waves with ease, and went on at a rapid rate. 
We then all laid down our paddles, excepting one that steered, and 
there was no water dashed into our canoes, until we came near the 
shore again. We sailed about sixty miles that day, and encamped 
some time before night. 

The next day we again embarked and went on very well for some 
time; but the lake being boisterous, and the wind not fair, we were 
obliged to make to shore, which we accomplished with hard work 
and Some difficulty in landing.—The next morning a council was 
held by the old men. 

As we had this day to pass by a long precipice of rocks on the 
shore about nine miles, which rendered it impossible for us to land, 
though the wind was high and the lake rough, yet, as it was fair, 
we were all ordered to embark. We wrought ourselves out from 
the shore and hoisted sail, (what we used in place of sail cloth were 
our tent mats, which answered the purpose very well,) and went on 
for some time with a fair wind, until we were opposite to the preci¬ 
pice, and then it turned towards the shore, and we began to fear we 
should be cast upon the rocks. Two of the canoes were consider¬ 
ably farther out from the rocks, than the canoe 1 was in. Those 
who were farthest out in the lake did not let down their sails until 
they had passed the precipice; but as we were nearer the rock, we 
were obliged to lower our sails, and paddle with all our might. 
With much difficulty we cleared ourselves of the rock, and landed. 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


37 


As the other canoes had landed before us, there were immediately 
runners sent off to see if we were all safely landed. 

This night the wind fell, and the next morning the lake was 
tolerably calm, and we embarked without difficulty, and paddled 
along near the shore, until we came to the mouth of the Cayahaga, 
which empties into Lake Erie on the south side, betwixt Canesa- 
dooharie and Presq’ Isle. 

We turned up Cayahaga and encamped—where we stayed and 
hunted for several days ; and so we kept moving and hunting until 
we came to the forks of Cayahaga. 

This is a very gentle river, and but few ripples, or swift running 
places, from the mouth to the forks. Deer here were tolerably plenty, 
large and fat; but bear and other game scarce. The upland is 
hilly, and principally second and third rate land. The timber 
chiefly black-oak, white-oak, hickory, dogwood, &c. The bottoms 
are rich and large, and the timber is walnut, locust, mulberry, sugar- 
tree, red-haw, black-haw, wild appletrees, <fcc. The West Branch 
of this river interlocks with the East Branch of the Muskingum ; 
and the East Branch with the Big Beaver creek, that empties into 
the Ohio about thirty miles below Pittsburg. 

From the forks of Cayahaga to the East Branch of the Muskin¬ 
gum, there is a carrying place, where the Indians carry their canoes, 
<fcc. from the waters of Lake Erie, into the waters of the Ohio. 

From the forks I went over with some hunters, to the East 
Branch of Muskingum, where they killed several deer, a number of 
beavers, and returned heavy laden, with skins and meat, which we 
carried on our backs, as we had no horses. 

The land here is chiefly second and third rate, and the timber 
chiefly oak and hickory. A little^ above the forks, on the East 
Branch of Cayahaga, are considerable rapids, very rocky for oome 
distance ; but no perpendicular falls. 

About the first of December, 1756, we were preparing for leaving 
the river: we buried our canoes, and as usual hung up our skins 
and every one had a pack to carry : the squaws also packed up their 
tents, which they carried in large rolls, that extended up above their 
heads ; and though a great bulk, yet not heavy. We steered about 
a south-east course, and could not march over ten miles per day. 
At night we lodged in our flag tents, which when erected, were 
nearly in the shape of a sugar loaf, and about fifteen feet diameter 
at the ground. 

In this manner we proceeded about forty miles, and wintered in 
these tents, on the waters of Beaver creek, near a little lake or pond 
which is about two miles long, and one broad, and a remarkable 
place for beaver. 

It is a received opinion among the Indians, that the geese turn to 
beavers, and the snakes to racoons ; and though Tecaughretanego, 
who was a wise man, was not fully persuaded that this was true, 
yet he seemed in some measure to be carried away with this whim¬ 
sical notion. lie said that this pond had always been a great place 
for beaver. Though he said he knew them all frequently killed, 
4 


38 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


(as he thought,) yet the next winter they would be as plenty as 
ever. And as the beaver was an animal that did not travel by land, 
and there being no water communication to or from this pond—how 
could such a number of beavers get there year after year ? But as 
this pond was also a considerable place for geese, when they came 
in the fall from the north, and alighted in this pond, they turned 
beavers, all but the feet, which remained nearly the same. 

I said, that though there was no water communication in or out of 
this pond, yet it appeared that it was fed by springs, it was always 
clear, and never stagnated: and as a very large spring as rose about 
a mile below this pond, it was likely this spring came from this pond. 
In the fall, when this spring is comparatively low, there would be 
air under ground sufficient for the beavers to breathe in, with their 
heads above water, for they cannot live long under water, and so 
they might have a subterraneous passage by water into this pond. 
Tecaughretanego granted that it might be so. 

About the sides of this pond there grew great abundance of cran¬ 
berries, which the Indians gathered up on the ice, when the pond 
w r as frozen over. These berries were about as large as rifle bullets 
—of a bright red colour—an agreeable sour, though rather too sour 
of themselves ; but when mixed with sugar, had a very agreeable 
taste. 

In conversation with Tecaughretanego, I happened to be talking 
of the beavers catching fish. He asked me why I thought that the 
beaver caught fish ? I told him that I had read of the beaver making 
dams for the conveniency ot fishing. He laughed, and made game 
of me and my book. He said the man that wrote that book knew 
nothing about the beaver. The beaver never did eat flesh of any 
kind ^ but lived on the bark of trees, roots, and other vegetables. 

In^rder to know certainly how this was, when we killed a beaver 
I carefully examined the intestines, but found no appearance of fish ; 

I afterwards made an experiment on a pet beaver which we had, 
and found that it would neither eat fish nor flesh ; therefore I ac¬ 
knowledged that the book that I had read was wrong. 

I asked him if the beaver was an amphibious animal, or if it could 
live under water ! He said that the beaver was a kind of subterra¬ 
neous water animal, that lives in or near the water; but they were 
no more amphibious than the ducks and geese were—which was 
constantly proven to be the case; as all the beavers that are caught 
in steel traps are drowned, provided the trap be heavy enough°to 
keep them under water. As the beaver does not eat fish, I inquired 
of Tecaughretanego why the beaver made such large dams ? He 
said they were of use to them in various respects—both for their 
safety and food. For their safety, as by raising the water over the 
mouths of their holes or subterraneous lodging places, they could 
not be easily found ; and as the beaver feeds chiefly on the bark of 
trees, by raising the water over the banks, they can cut down sap¬ 
lings for bark to feed upon without going out much upon the land: 
and when they are obliged to go out on land for this food, they 
frequently are caught by the wolves. As the beaver can run upon 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


39 


land but little faster than a water tortoise, and is no fighting animal, 
if they are any distance from the water, they become an easy prey 
to their enemies. 

I asked Tecaughretanego, what was the use of the beavers’ stones, 
or glands, to them—as the she beaver has two pair, which is com¬ 
monly called the oil stones, and the bark stones 1 He said that as 
the beavers are the dumbest of all animals, and scarcely ever make 
any noise; and as they were working creatures, they made use of 
this smell in order to work in concert. If an old beaver was to 
come on the bank and rub his breech upon the ground, and raise a 
perfume, the others will collect from different places and go to work ; 
this is also of use to them in travelling, that they may thereby search 
out and find their company. Cunning hunters finding this out, 
have made use of it against the beavers, in order to catch them. 
"What is the bait which you see them make use of, but a compound 
of the oil and bark stones ? By this perfume, which is only a false 
signal, they decoy them to the trap. 

Near this pond, beaver was the principal game. Before the water 
froze up, we caught a great many with wooden and steel traps : but 
after that, we hunted the beaver on the ice. Some places here the 
beavers build large houses to live in; and in other places they have 
subterraneous lodgings in the banks. Where they lodge in the 
ground, we have no chance of hunting them on the ice ; but where 
they have houses, we go with malls and handspikes, and break all 
the hollow ice, to prevent them from getting their heads above the 
water under it. Then we break a hole in the house, and they make 
their escape into the water; but as they cannot live long under 
water, they are obliged to go to some of those broken places to 
breathe, and the Indians commonly put in their hands, catch them 
by the hind leg, haul them on the ice, and tomahawk them. Some¬ 
times they shoot them in the head, when they raise it above the 
water. 1 asked the Indians if they were not afraid to catch the 
beavers with their hands; they said no: they were not much of a 
biting creature; yet if they would catch them by the fore foot they 
would bite. 

I went out with Tecaughretanego and some others a beaver hunt¬ 
ing : but we did not succeed, and on our return we saw where 
several racoons had passed, while the snow was soft, though there 
was now a crust upon it; we all made a halt looking at the racoon 
tracks. As they saw a tree with a hole in it, they told me to go 
and see if they had gone in thereat; and if they had, to halloo, and 
they would come and take them out. When I went to that tree, I 
found they had gone past; but I saw another the way they had 
went, and proceeded to examine that, and found they had gone up it. 
I then began to halloo, but could have no answer. 

As it began to snow and blow moat violently, I returned and pro¬ 
ceeded after my company, and for some time could see their tracks ; 
but the old snow being about three inches deep, and a crust upon it, 
the present driving snow soon filled up the tracks. As I had only 
a bow, arrows and tomahawk with me, and no way to strike fire, I 


40 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


appeared to be in a dismal situation—and as the air was dark with 
snow, I had little more prospect of steering my course, than I would 
in the night. At length I came to a hollow tree, with a hole at one 
side that I could go in at. I went in, and found that it was a dry 
place, and the hollow about three feet diameter, and high enough for 
me to stand in. I found that there was also a considerable quantity 
of soft, dry rotten wood, around this hollow ; I therefore concluded 
that I would lodge here, and that I would go to work, and stop up 
the door of my house. I stripped off my blanket, (which was all 
the clothes that I had, excepting a breech-clout, leggins and mocka- 
sins,) and with my tomahawk, fell to chopping at the top of a fallen 
tree that lay near, and carried wood and set it up on end against the 
door, until I had it three or four feet thick, all around, excepting a 
hole I had left to creep in at. I had a block prepared that I could 
haul after me, to stop this hole: and before I went in I put in a 
number of small sticks, that I might more effectually stop it on the 
inside. When I went in, I took my tomahawk and cut down all 
the dry rotten wood I could get, and beat it small. With it I made 
a bed like a goose-nest or hog-bed, and with the small sticks stopped 
every hole, until my house was almost dark. I stripped off my 
mockasins, and danced in the centre of my bed for about half an 
hour, in order to warm myself. In this time my feet and whole 
body were agreeably warmed. The snow, in the mean while, had 
stopped all the holes, so that my house was as dark as a dungeon; 
though I knew that it could not yet be dark out of doors. I then 
coiled myself up in my blanket, lay down in my little round bed, 
and had a tolerable night’s lodging. When I awoke, all was dark 
—not the least glimmering of light was to be seen. Immediately 
I recollected that I was not to expect light in this new habitation, as 
there was neither door nor window in it. As I could hear the 
storm raging, and did not suffer much cold, as I was then situated, 
I concluded I would stay in my nest until I was certain it was day. 
When I had reason to conclude that it surely was day, I arose and 
put on my mockasins, which I had laid under my head to keep 
from freezing. I then endeavored to find the door, and had to do 
all by the sense of feeling, which took me some time. At length I 
found the block, but it being heavy, and a large quantity of snow 
having fallen on it, at the first attempt I did not move it. I then felt 
terrified—among all the hardships I had sustained, I never knew be¬ 
fore, what it was to be thus deprived of light. This, with the other 
circumstances attending it, appeared grievous. I went straightway to 
bed again, wrapped my blanket round me, and lay and mused 
awhile, and then prayed to Almighty God to direct and protect me, 
as he had done heretofore. I once again attempted to move away the 
block, which proved successful; it moved about nine inches—with 
this a considerable quantity of snow fell in from above, and I imme¬ 
diately received light; so that I found a very great snow had fallen, 
above what I had ever seen in one night. I then knew why I could 
not easily move the block, and I was so rejoiced at obtaining the 
light, that all my other difficulties seemed to vanish. I then turned 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


4t 


into my cell, and returned God thanks for having once more received 
the light of Heaven. At length I belted my blanket about me, got 
my tomahawk, bow and arrows, and went out of my den. 

I was now in tolerable high spirits, though the snow had fallen 
above three feet deep, in addition to what was on the ground before; 
and the only imperfect guide I had, in order to steer my course to 
camp, was the trees, as the moss generally grows on the north¬ 
west side of them, if they are straight. I proceeded on, wading 
through the snow, and about twelve o’clock (as it appeared after¬ 
wards, from that time to night, for it was yet cloudy) I came upon 
the creek that our camp was on, about half a mile below the camp; 
and when I came in sight of the camp, I found that there was great 
joy, by the shouts and yelling of the boys, &c. 

When I arrived, they all came round me, and received me gladly; 
but at this time no questions were asked, and I was taken into a 
tent, where they gave me plenty of fat beaver meat, and then asked 
me to smoke. When I had done, Tecaughretanego desired me to 
walk out to a fire they had made. I went out, and they all col¬ 
lected round me, both men, women, and boys. Tecaughretanego 
asked me to give them a particular account of what had happened 
from the time they left me yesterday until now. I told them the 
whole of the story, and they never interrupted me ; but when I 
made a stop, the intervals were filled with loud acclamations of joy. 
As I could not at this time talk Ottawa or Jibewa well, (which is 
nearly the same,) I delivered my story in Caughnewaga. As my 
sister Molly’s husband was a Jibewa, and could understand Caugh¬ 
newaga, he acted as interpreter, and delivered my story to the 
Jibewas and Ottawas, which they received with pleasure. When 
all this was done, Tecaughretanego made a speech to me in the 
following manner : 

“ Brother ,*—You see we have prepared snow-shoes to go after 
you, and were almost ready to go when you appeared ; yet, as you 
had not been accustomed to hardships in your country, to the east, 
we never expected to see you alive. Now, we are glad to see you in 
various respects : we are glad to see you on on your own account; 
and we are glad to see the prospect of your filling the place of a great 
man, in whose room you were adopted. We do not blame you for 
what has happened, we blame ourselves ; because, we did not think of 
this driving snow filling up the tracks, until after we came to camp. 

“ Brother ,—Your conduct on this occasion hath pleased us much : 
you have given us an evidence of your fortitude, skill, and resolu¬ 
tion ; and we hope you will always go on to do great actions, as it 
is only gneat actions that can make a great man.” 

I told my brother Tecaughretanego, that I thanked them for their 
care of me, and for the kindness I always received. I told him that 
I always wished to do great actions, and hoped I would never do 
any thing to dishonor any of those with whom I was connected. 
I likewise told my Jibewa brother-in-law to tell his people that X 
also thanked them for their care and kindness. 

4 * 


42 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


The next morning some of the hunters went out on snow-shoes, 
killed several deer, and hauled some of them into camp upon the 
snow. They fixed their carrying strings, (which are broad in the 
middle, and small at each end,) in the fore feet and nose of the deer, 
and laid the broad part of it on their head or about their shoulders, 
and pulled it along; and when it is moving, will not sink in the 
snow much deeper than a snow-shoe; and when taken with the 
grain of the hair, slips along very easily. 

The snow-shoes are made like a hoop net, and wrought with 
buckskin thongs. Each shoe is about two feet and a half long, and 
about eighteen inches broad before, and small behind, with cross 
bars, in order to fix or tie them to the feet. After the snow had 
lain a few days, the Indians tomahawked the deer, by pursuing them 
in this manner 

About two weeks after this, there came a warm rain, and took 
away the chief part of the snow, and broke up the ice : then we en¬ 
gaged in making wooden traps to catch beavers, as we had but few 
steel traps. These traps are made nearly in the same manner as 
the racoon traps already described. 

One day as I was looking after my traps, I got benighted, by 
beaver ponds intercepting my way to camp; and as I had neglected 
to take fire-works with me, and the weather very cold, I could find 
no suitable lodging place ; therefore, the only expedient I could think 
of to keep myself from freezing, was exercise. I danced and hal¬ 
looed the whole night with all my might, and the next day came to 
camp. Though I suffered much more this time than the other night 
I lay out, yet the Indians were not so much concerned, as they 
thought I had fire-works with me ; but when they knew how it was, 
they did not blame me. They said that old hunters were frequently 
involved in this place, as the beaver dams were one above another 
on every creek and run, so 'that it is hard to find a fording place. 
They applauded me for my fortitude, and said, as they had now 
plenty.of beaver skins, they would purchase me a new gun at De¬ 
troit, as we were to go there the next spring ; and then if I should 
chance to be lost in dark weather, 1 could make fire, kill provision, 
and return to camp when the sun shined. By being bewildered on 
the waters of the Muskingum, I lost repute, and was reduced to the 
bow and arrow, and by lying out two nights here I regained my 
credit. 

After some time the waters all froze again, and then, as formerly, 
we hunted beavers on the ice. Though beaver meat, without salt, 
or bread, was the chief of our food this winter, yet we had always 
plenty, and I was well contented with my diet, as it appeared deli¬ 
cious fare, after the way we had lived the winter before. 

Some time in February, we scaffolded up our fur and skins, and 
moved about ten miles in quest of a sugar camp, or a suitable place 
to make sugar, and encamped in a large bottom on the head waters 
of Big Beaver Creek. We had seme difficulty in moving, as we 
had a blind Caughnewaga boy, about fifteen years of age, to lead; 
and as this country is very brushy, we frequently had him to carry. 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


43 


We had also my Jibewa brother-in-law’s father with us, who was 
thought by the Indians to be a great conjurer—his name was Mane¬ 
tohcoa. This old man was so deerepid, that we had to carry him 
this route upon a bier, and all our baggage to pack on our backs. 

Shortly after we came to this place, the squaws began to make 
sugar. We had no large kettles with us this year, and they made 
the frost, in some measure, supply the place of fire, in making 
sugar. Their large bark vessels, for holding the stock water, they 
made broad and shallow ; and as the weather is very cold here, it 
frequently freezes at night in sugar time ; and the ice they break 
and cast out of the vessels. I asked them if they were not throw¬ 
ing away the sugar? They said, no : it was water they were 
casting away, sugar did not freeze, and there was scarcely any in 
that ice. They said, I might try the experiment, and boil some of 
it, and see what I would get. I never did try it; but I observed, 
that after several times freezing, the water that remained in the ves¬ 
sel changed its colour, and became brown and very sweet. 

About the time we were done making sugar the snow went off 
the ground ; and one night a squaw raised an alarm : she said she 
saw two men with guns in their hands, upon the bank on the other 
side of the creek, spying our tents—they were supposed to be John¬ 
ston’s Mohawks. On this the squaws were ordered to slip quietly 
out, some distance into the bushes; and all who had either guns or 
bows were to squat in the bushes near the tents; and if the enemy 
rushed up, we were to give them the first fire, and let the squaws 
have an opportunity of escaping. I got down beside Tecaughre- 
tanego, and he whispered to me not to be afraid, for he would speak 
to the Mohawks, and as they spoke the same tongue that we did, 
they would not hurt the Caughnewagas or me; but they would kill 
all the Jibe was and Ottawas that they could, and take us along with 
them. This news pleased me well, and I heartily wished for the 
approach of the Mohawks. 

Before we withdrew from the tents, they had carried Manetohcoa 
to the fire, and gave him his conjuring tools, which were dyed fea¬ 
thers, the bone of the shoulder blade of a wild cat, tobacco, &c.; 
and while we were in the bushes, Manetohcoa was in a tent at the 
fire, conjuring away to the utmost of his ability. At length he called 
aloud for us all to come in, which was quickly obeyed. When we 
came in, he told us that after he had gone through the whole of his 
ceremony, and expected to see a number of Mohawks on the flat 
bone when it was warmed at the fire, the pictures of two wolves 
only appeared. He said, though there were no Mohawks about, 
we must not be angry with the squaw for giving a false alarm ; as 
she had occasion to go out and happened to see the wolves, though 
it was moonlight, yet she got afraid, and she conceited it was In¬ 
dians with guns in their hands ; so he said we might all go to sleep, 
for there was no danger—and accordingly we did. 

The next morning we went to the place, and found wolf tracks, 
and where they had scratched with their feet like dogs; but there 
was no sign of moccasin tracks. If there is any such thing as a 


44 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


wizard, I think Manetohcoa was as likely to be one as any man, as 
he was a professed worshipper of the devil.—But let him be a con¬ 
jurer or not, I am persuaded that the Indians believed what he told 
them upon this occasion, as well as if it had come from an infallible 
oracle; or they would not, after such an alarm as this, go all to 
sleep in an unconcerned manner. This appeared to me the most 
like witchcraft of any thing I beheld while I was with them. 
Though I scrutinized their proceedings in business of this kind, yet 
I generally found that their pretended witchcraft was either art or 
mistaken notions, whereby they deceived themselves. Before a 
battle they spy the enemy’s motions carefully, and when they find 
that they can have considerable advantage, and the greatest prospect 
of success, then the old men pretend to conjure, or to tell what the 
event will be,—and this they do in a figurative manner, which will 
bear something of a different interpretation, which generally comes 
to pass nearly as they foretold ; therefore the young warriors gene¬ 
rally believed these old conjurers, which had a tendency to animate 
and excite them to push on with vigour. 

Some time in March, 1757, we began to move back to the forks 
of Cayahaga, which was about forty or fifty miles; and as we had 
no horses, we had all our baggage and several hundred weight of 
beaver skins, and some deer and bear skins—all to pack on our 
backs. The method we took to accomplish this, was by making 
short day’s journeys. In the morning we would move on with as 
much as we were able to carry, about five miles, and encamp, and 
then run back for more. We commonly made three such trips in 
the day. When we came to the great pond, we staid there one 
day to rest ourselves, and to kill ducks and geese. 

While we remained here, I w'ent in company with a young 
Caughnewaga, who was about sixteen or seventeen years of age, 
Chinnohete by name, in order to gather cranberries. As he was 
gathering berries at some distance from me, three Jibewa squaws 
crept up undiscovered, and made at him speedily, but he nimbly 
escaped, and came to me, apparently terrified. I asked him what 
he was afraid of? He replied, did you not see those squaws ? I 
told him I did, and they appeared to be in a very good humour. I 
asked him, wherefore then he was afraid of them ? He said the 
Jibewa squaws were very bad women, and had a very ugly custom 
among them. I asked him what that custom was ? He said, that 
when two or three of them could catch a young lad, that was be¬ 
twixt a man and a boy, out by himself, if they could overpower 
him, they would strip him by force, in order to see whether he was 
coming on to be a man or not. He said that was what they in¬ 
tended when they crawled up, and ran so violently at him; but, 
said he, I am very glad that I so narrowly escaped. I then agreed 
with Chinnohete in condemning this as a bad custom, and an ex¬ 
ceedingly immodest action for young women to be guilty of. 

From our sugar camp on the head waters of Big Beaver Creek to 
this place, is not hilly; in some places the woods are tolerably 
clear, but in most cases exceedingly brushy. The land here is. 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


45 


chiefly second and third rate; the timber on the upland is white 
oak, black oak, hickory, and chestnut; there is al&o'in some places 
walnut upland, and plenty of good water. The bottoms here are 
generally large and good. 

We again proceeded on from the pond to the forks of the Caya- 
haga, at the rate of about five miles per day. 

The land on this route is not very hilly; it is watered, and in 
many places ill timbered, generally brushy, and chiefly second and 
third rate land, intermixed with good bottoms. 

When we came to the forks, we found that the skins we had 
scaffolded were all safe. Though this was a public place, and In¬ 
dians frequently passing, and our skins hanging up in view, yet 
there were none stolen ; and it is seldom that Indians do steal any 
thing from one another; and they say they never did, until the 
white people came among them, and learned some of them to lie, 
cheat, and steal,—but, be that as it may, they never did curse or 
swear until the whites learned them ; some think their language 
will not admit of it, but I am not of that opinion. If I was so 
disposed, I could find language to curse or swear in the Indian 
tongue. 

I remember that Tecaughretanego, when something displeased 
him, said, God damn it.—I asked him if he knew what he then 
said ? He said he did, and mentioned one of their degrading ex¬ 
pressions, which he supposed to be the meaning, or something like 
the meaning of what he had said. I told him that it did not bear 
the least resemblance to it; that what he had said, was calling upon 
the Great Spirit to punish the object he was displeased with. He 
stood for some time amazed, and then said, if this be the meaning 
of these words, what sort of people are the whites. When the 
traders were among us, these words seemed to be intermixed with 
all their discourse. He told me to reconsider what I had said, 
for he thought I must be mistaken in my definition ; if I was not 
mistaken, he said the traders applied these words not only wickedly, 
but oftentimes very foolishly and contrary to sense or reason. He 
said, he remembered once of a trader’s accidentally breaking his 
gun-lock, and on that occasionally calling out aloud, God damn it— 
surely, said he, the gun-lock was not an object worthy of punish¬ 
ment for Owananeeyo, or the Great Spirit: he also observed the 
traders often used this expression when they were in a good humour, 
and not displeased with any thing. I acknowledged that the traders 
used this expression very often, in a most irrational, inconsistent, 
and impious manner; yet I still asserted that I had given the true 
meaning of these words. He replied, if so, the traders are as bad as 
Oonasharoona, or the under ground inhabitants, which is the name 
they give the devils, as they entertain a notion that their place of 
residence is under the earth. 

We took up our birch-bark canoes, which we had buried, and 
found that they were not damaged by the winter; but they not 
being sufficient to carry all that we now had, we made a large chest¬ 
nut bark canoe, as elm bark was not to be found at this place.. 


46 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


We all embarked, and had a very agreeable passage down the 
Cayahaga, and along the south side of Lake Erie, until we passed 
the mouth of Sandusky; then the wind arose, and we put in at the 
mouth of the Miami of the Lake, at Cedar Point, where we remain¬ 
ed several days, and killed a number of turkeys, geese, ducks, and 
swans. The wind being fair, and the lake not extremely rough, we 
again embarked, hoisted up sails, and arrived safe at the Wyandot 
town, nearly opposite to Fort Detroit, on the north side of the 
river. Here we found a number of French traders, every one very 
willing to deal with us for our beaver. 

We bought ourselves fine clothes, ammunition, paint, tobacco, 
&c., and, according to promise, they purchased me a new gun : yet 
we had parted with only about one-third of our beaver. At length a 
trader came to town with French brandy; we purchased a keg of it, 
and held a council about who was to get drunk, and who was to 
keep sober. I was invited to get drunk, but I refused the proposal 
—then they said that I must be one of those who were to take care 
of the drunken people. I did not like this ; but of two evils I chose 
that which I thought was the least—and fell in with those who were 
to conceal the arms, and keep every dangerous weapon we could out 
of their way, and endeavour, if possible, to keep the drinking club 
from killing each other, which was a very hard task. Several times 
we hazarded our own lives, and got ourselves hurt, in preventing 
them from slaying each other. Before they had finished this keg, 
near one-third of the town was introduced to this drinking club ; 
they could not pay their part, as they had already disposed of all 
their skins ; but that made no odds—all were welcome to drink. 

When they were done with this keg, they applied to the traders, 
and procured a kettle full of brandy at a time, which they divided 
out with a large wooden spoon,—and so they went on, and never 
quit while they had a single beaver skin. 

When the trader had got all our beaver, he moved off to the Otta¬ 
wa town, about a mile from the Wyandot town. 

When the brandy was gone, and the drinking club sober, they 
appeared much dejected. Some of them were crippled, others 
badly wounded, a number of their fine new shirts tore, and several 
blankets were burned. A number of squaws were also in this club, 
and neglected their corn planting. 

We could now hear the effects of the brandy in the Ottawa town. 
They were singing and yelling in the most hideous manner, both 
night and day ; but their frolic ended worse than ours ; five Ottawas 
were killed, and a gr eat many wounded. 

After this a number of young Indians were getting their ears cut, and 
they urged me to have mine cut likewise, but they did not attempt 
to compel me, though they endeavoured to persuade me. The 
principal arguments they used were, its being a very great ornament, 
and also the common fashion. The former I did" not believe, and 
the latter I could not deny. The way they performed this operation 
was by cutting the fleshy part of the circle of the ear close to the 
gristle, quite through. When this was done, they wrapt rags 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


47 


round this fleshy part until it was entirely healed; they then hung 
lead to it, and stretched it to a wonderful length: when it was suffi¬ 
ciently stretched, they wrapt the fleshy part round with brass wire, 
which formed it into a semi-circle, about four inches diameter. 

Many of the young men were now exercising themselves in a 
game resembling foot ball; though they commonly struck the ball 
with a crooked stick made for that purpose; also a game something 
like this, wherein they used a wooden ball, about three inches 
diameter, and the instrument they moved it with was a strong staff, 
about five feet long, with a hoop net on the end of it large enough 
to contain the ball. Before they begin the play, they lay off 
about half a mile distance in a clear plain, and the opposite parties 
all attend at the centre, where a disinterested person casts up the 
ball, then the opposite parties all contend for it. If any one gets it 
into his net, he runs with it the way he wishes it to go, and they all 
pursue him. If one of the opposite party overtakes the person with 
the ball, he gives the staff a stroke, which causes the ball to fly out 
of the net; then they have another debate for it, and if the one that 
gets it can outrun all the opposite party, and can carry it quite out, 
or over the line at the end, the game is won; but this seldom happens. 
When any one is running away with the ball, and is likely to be 
overtaken, he commonly throws it, and with this instrument can 
cast fifty or sixty yards. Sometimes when the ball is almost at the 
one end, matters will take a sudden turn, and the opposite party 
may quickly carry it out at the other end. Oftentimes they will 
work a long while back and forward, before they can get the ball 
over the line, or win the game. 

About the 1st of June, 1757, the warriors were preparing to go to 
war, in the Wyandot, Pottowatomy, and Ottawa towns; also a 
great many Jibewas came down from the upper lakes, and after 
singing their war songs, and going through their common ceremo¬ 
nies, they marched off against the frontiers of Virginia, Maryland, 
and Pennsylvania, in their usual manner, singing the travelling 
song, slow firing, &c. 

On the north side of the river St. Lawrence, opposite to Fort 
Detroit, there is an island, which the Indians call Long Island, and 
which they say is above one thousand miles long, and in some 
places above one hundred miles broad. They further say that the 
great river that comes down by Canesatauga, and that empties into 
the main branch of St. Lawrance, above Montreal, originates from 
one source with the St. Lawrence, and forms this island. 

Opposite to Detroit, and below it, was originally a prarie, and 
laid off in lots about sixty rods broad, and a great length: each lot 
is divided into two fields, which they cultivate year about. The 
principal grain that the French raised in these fields, was spring 
wheat, and peas. 

They built all their houses on the front of these lots on the river 
side ; and as the banks of the river are very low, some of the houses 
are not above three or four feet above the surface of the water; yet 
they are in no danger of being disturbed by freshets, as the river 


48 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


seldom rises above eighteen inches; because it is the communica- 
tion of the river St. Lawrence, from one lake to another. 

As dwelling houses, barns, and stables are all built on the front of 
these lots, at a distance it appears like a continued row of houses in 
a town, on each side of the river for a long way. These villages, 
the town, the river, and the plains, being all in view at once, affords 
a most delightful prospect. 

The inhabitants here chiefly drink the river water; and as it 
comes from the northward, it is very wholesome. 

The land here is principally second rate, and comparatively 
speaking, a small part is first or third rate; though about four or 
five miles south of Detroit, there is a small portion that is worse 
than what I would call third rate, which produces abundance of 
whortls berries. 

There is plenty of good meadow ground here, and a great many 
marshes that are overspread with water. The timber is elm, sugar- 
tree, black-ash, white-ash, abundance of water-ash, oak, hickory, 
and some walnut. 

About the middle of June, the Indians were almost all gone to 
war, from sixteen to sixty; yet Tecaughretanego remained in town 
with me. Though he had formerly, when they were at war with the 
southern nations, been a great warrior, and an eminent counsellor; and 
I think as clear and able a reasoner upon any subject that he had an 
opportunity of being acquainted with, as I ever knew ; yet he had 
all along been against this war, and had strenuously opposed it in 
council. He said, if the English and French had a quarrel, let them 
fight their own battles themselves; it is not our business to inter¬ 
meddle therewith. 

Before the warriors returned, we were very scarce of provision ; 
and though we did not commonly steal from one another, yet we 
stole during this time any thing that we could eat, from the French, 
under the notion that it was just for us to do so, because they sup¬ 
ported their soldiers ; and our squaws, old men and children, were 
suffering on the account of the war, as our hunters were all gone. 

Sometime in August, the warriors returned, and brought in with 
them a great many scalps, prisoners, horses and plunder; and the 
common report among the young warriors, w r as, that they would 
entirely subdue Tulhasaga, that is the English, or it might be lite¬ 
rally rendered the Morning Light inhabitants. 

About the first of November, a number of families w ? ere preparing 
to go on their winter hunt, and all agreed to cross the lake together. 
We encamped at the mouth of the river the first night, and a council 
was held, whether we should cross through by the three islands, or 
coast it round the lake. These islands lie in a line across the lake, 
and are just in sight of each other. Some of the Wyandots, or 
Ottawas, frequently make their winter hunt on these islands. 
Though excepting wild fowl and fish, there is scarcely any game 
here but racoons, which are amazingly plenty, and exceedingly 
large and fat; as they feed upon the wild rice, which grows in 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


49 


abundance in wet places round these islands. It is said that each 
hunter, in one winter, will catch one thousand racoons. 

It is a received opinion among the Indians, that the snakes and 
racoons are transmigratory; and that a great many of the snakes 
turn racoons every fall, and the racoons snakes every spring. This 
notion is founded on observations made on the snakes and racoons 
in this island. 

As the racoons here lodge in rocks, the trappers make their 
wooden traps at the mouth of the holes; and as they go daily to 
look at their traps, in the winter season, they commonly find them 
filled with racoons ; but in the spring, or when the frost is out of the 
ground, they say, then they find their traps filled with large rattle 
snakes. And therefore conclude that the racoons are transformed. 
They also say that the reason why they are so remarkably plenty 
in the winter, is, every fall the snakes turn racoons again. 

I told them that though I had never landed on any of these 
islands, yet from the numerous accounts I had received, I believed 
that both snakes and racoons were plenty there; but no doubt they 
all remained there both summer and winter, only the snakes were 
not to be seen in the latter; yet I did not believe that they were 
transmigratory. 

These islands are but seldom visited ; because early in the spring, 
and late in the fall, it is dangerous sailing in their bark canoes; and 
in the summer they are so infested with various kinds of serpents, 
(but chiefly rattle snakes,) that it is dangerous landing. 

I shall now quit this digression, and return to the result of the 
council at the mouth of the river. We concfuded to coast it round 
the lake, and in two days we came to the mouth of the Miami of 
the Lake, and landed on Cedar Point, where we remained several 
days. Here we held a council, and concluded we would take a 
driving hunt in concert, and in partnership. 

The river in this place is about a mile broad, and as it and the 
lake forms a kind of neck, which terminates in a point, all the 
hunters, (which were fifty-three,) went up the river, and w j e scat¬ 
tered ourselves from the river to the lake. When we first began to 
move, we were not in sight of each other, but as we all raised the 
yell, we could move regularly together by the noise. At length we 
came in sight of each other, and appeared to be marching in good 
order; before we came to the point, both the squaws and boys in 
the canoes were scattered up the river, and along the lake, to pre¬ 
vent the deer from making their escape by water. As we advanced 
near the point, the guns began to crack slowly ; and after some time 
the firing was like a little engagement. The squaws and boys were 
busy tomahawking the deer in the water, and we shooting them 
down on the land : we killed in all about thirty deer, though a great 
many made their escape by water. 

We had now great feasting and rejoicing, as we had plenty of 
homony, venison, and wild fowl. The geese at this time appeared 
to be preparing to move southward—it might be asked what is meant 
5 


50 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


by the geese preparing to move? The Indians represent them as 
holding a great council at this time concerning the weather, in order 
to conclude upon a day, that they may all at or near one time leave 
the northern lakes, and wing their way to the southern bays. 
"When matters are brought to a conclusion, and the time appointed 
that they are to take wing, then they say, a great number of expres¬ 
ses are sent off, in order to let the different tribes know the result of 
this council, that they may be all in readiness to move at the time 
appointed. As there is a great commotion among the geese at this 
time, it would appear from their actions, that such a council had 
heen held. Certain it is, that they are led by instinct to act in con¬ 
cert, and to move off regularly after their leaders. 

Here our company separated. The chief part of them went up 
the Miami river, that empties into Lake Erie, at Cedar Point, whilst 
we proceeded on our journey in company with Tecaughretanego, 
Tontileaugo, and two families of the Wyandots. 

As cold weather was now approaching, we began to feel the dole¬ 
ful effects of extravagantly and foolishly spending the large quantity 
of beaver we had taken in our last winter’s hunt. We were all 
nearly in the same circumstances—scarcely one had a shirt to his 
back; but each of us had an old blanket which we belted round us 
in the day, and slept in at night, with a deer or bear skin under us 
for our bed. 

When we came to the falls of Sandusky, we buried our birch 
bark canoes as usual, at a large burying place for that purpose, a 
little below the falls. At this place the river falls about eight feet 
over a rock, but not perpendicularly. With much difficulty we 
pushed up our wooden canoes, some of us went up the river, and 
the rest by land with the horses, until we came to the great mea¬ 
dows or prairies, that lie between Sandusky and Sciota. 

When we came to this place, we met with some Ottawa hunters, 
and agreed with them to take, what they call a ring hunt, in partner¬ 
ship. We waited until we expected rain was near falling to extin¬ 
guish the fire, and then we kindled a large circle in the prairie. 
At this time, or before the bucks began to run, a great number of 
deer lay concealed in the grass, in the day, and moved about in the 
night; but as the fire burned in towards the centre of the circle, the 
deer fled before the fire : the Indians were scattered also at some 
distance before the fire, and shot them down every opportunity, 
which was very frequent, especially as the circle became small. 
When we came to divide the deer, there were about ten to each 
hunter, which were all killed in a few hours. The rain did not 
come on that night to put out the outside circle of the fire, and as 
the wind arose, it extended through the whole prairie, which was 
about fifty miles in length, and in some places nearly twenty in 
breadth. This put an end to our ring hunting this season, and was 
in other respects an injury to us in the hunting business ; so that 
upon the whole, we received more harm than benefit by our rapid hunt¬ 
ing frolic. We then moved from the north end of the glades, and 
encamped at the carrying place. 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


51 


This place is in the plains, betwixt a creek that empties into San¬ 
dusky, and one that runs into Sciota : and at the time of high water, 
or the spring season, there is but about one half mile of portage, and 
that very level, and clear of rocks, timber or stones ; so that with a 
little digging, there may be water carriage the whole way from Sci¬ 
ota to Lake Erie. 

From the mouth of Sandusky to the falls, is chiefly first rate land, 
lying flat or level, intermixed with large bodies of clear meadows, 
where the grass is exceeding rank, and in many places three or four 
feet high. The timber is oak, hickory, walnut, cherry, black-ash, 
elm, sugar-tree, buckeye, locust and beech. In some places there 
is wet timber land—the timber in these places is chiefly water-ash, 
sycamore, or button-wood. 

From the falls to the prairies, the land lies well to the sun, it is 
neither too flat nor too hilly, and is chiefly first rate. The timber 
nearly the same as below the falls, excepting the water-ash. There 
is also here, some plats of beech land, that appears to be second 
rate, as it frequently produces spice-wood. The prairie appears to 
be a tolerably fertile soil, though in many places too wet for cultiva¬ 
tion ; yet I apprehend it would produce timber, were it only kept 
from fire. 

The Indians are of the opinion that the squirrels plant all the 
timber; as they bury a number of nuts for food, and only one at a 
place. When a squirrel is killed, the various kinds of nuts thus 
buried, will grow. 

I have observed that when these prairies have only escaped fire 
for one year, near where a single tree stood, there was a young 
growth of timber supposed to be planted by the squirrels ; but when 
the prairies were again' burned, all this young growth was immedi¬ 
ately consumed; as the fire rages in the grass, to such a pitch, that 
numbers of racoons are thereby burned to death. 

On the west side of the prairie, or betwixt that and Sciota, there 
is a large body of first rate land—the timber, walnut, locust, sugar- 
tree, buckeye, cherry, ash, elm, mulberry, plumb-trees, spice-wood, 
black-haw, red-haw, oak and hickory. 

Auout the time that the bucks quit running, Tontileaugo, his wife 
and children, Tecaughretanego, his son Nungany and myself, left 
the Wyandot camps at the carrying place, and crossed the Sciota 
river at the south end of the glades, and proceeded on about a south¬ 
west course to a large creek called Ollentangy, which I believe 
interlocks with the waters of the Miami, and empties into Sciota on 
the west side thereof. From the south end of the prairie to Ol¬ 
lentangy, there is a large quantity of beech land, intermixed with first 
rate land. Here we made our winter hut, and had considerable 
success in hunting. 

After some time, one of Tontileaugo’s step-sons, (a lad about 
eight years of age,) offended him, and he gave the boy a moderate 
whipping, which much displeased his Wyandot wife. She ac¬ 
knowledged that the boy was guilty of a fault, but thought that he 


52 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


ought to have been ducked, which is their usual mode of chastise¬ 
ment. She said she could not bear having her son whipped like a 
servant or slave—-and she w T as so displeased, that when Tontileaugo 
went out to hunt, she got her two horses, and all her effects, (as in 
this country the husband and wife have separate interests,) and 
moved back to the Wyandot camp that we had left. 

When Tontileaugo returned, he was much disturbed on hearing 
of his wife’s elopement, and said that he would never go after her, 
were it not that he was afraid that she would get bewildered, and 
that his children that she had taken with her, might suffer. Tonti¬ 
leaugo went after his wife, and when they met they made up the 
quarrel, and he never returned; but left Tecaughretanego and his 
son, (a boy about ten years of age) and myself, who remained here 
in our hut all winter. 

Tecaughretanego had been a first rate warrior, statesman and 
hunter, and though he was now near sixty years of age, was yet 
equal to the common run of hunters, but subject to rheumatism, 
which deprived him of the use of his legs. 

Shortly after Tontileaugo left us, Tecaughretanego became lame, 
and could scarcely walk out of our hut for two months. I had con¬ 
siderable success in hunting and trapping. Though Tecaughreta¬ 
nego endured much pain and misery, yet he bore it all with won¬ 
derful patience, and would often endeavour to entertain me with 
cheerful conversation. Sometimes he would applaud me for my 
diligence, skill and activity—and at other times he would take great 
care in giving me instructions concerning the hunting and trapping 
business. He w’ould also tell me that if I failed of success, we 
would suffer very much, as we were about forty miles from any 
one living, that we knew of; yet he would not intimate that he ap¬ 
prehended we were in any danger, but still supposed that I was 
fully adequate to the task. 

Tontileaugo left us a little before Christmas, and from that until 
some time in February, we had always plenty of bear meat, veni¬ 
son, &c. During this time I killed much more than we could use, 
but having no horses to carry in what I killed, I left part of it in the 
woods. In February, there came a snow, with a crust, which 
made a great noise when walking on it, and frightened away the 
deer : and as bear and beaver were scarce here, we got entirely out 
of provision. After I had hunted two days without eating any 
thing, and had very short allowance for some days before, 1 return¬ 
ed late in the evening, faint and weary. When I came into our 
hut, Tecaughretanego asked what success? I told him not any. 
He asked me if I was not very hungry ? I replied that the keen 
appetite seemed to be in some measure removed, but I was both 
faint and weary.. He commanded Nunganey, his little son, to 
bring me something to eat, and he brought me a kettle with some 
bones and broth—after eating a few mouthfuls, my appetite vio¬ 
lently returned, and I thought the victuals had a most agreeable 
relish, though it was only fox and. wild-cat bones, which lay about 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


53 


the camp, which the ravens and turkey-buzzards had picked—these 
Nunganey had collected and boiled, until the sinews that remained 
on the bones, would strip off. I speedily finished my allowance, 
such as it was, and when I had ended my sweet repast, Tecaughre- 
tanego asked me how I felt ? I told him that I was much refreshed. 
He then handed me his pipe and pouch, and told me to take asmoke. 
I did so. He then said he had something of importance to tell me, 
if I was now composed and ready to hear it. I told him that I was 
ready to hear him. He said the reason why he deferred his speech 
till now, was because few men are in a right humour to hear good 
talk, when they are extremely hungry, as they are then generally 
fretful and discomposed ; but as you appear now to enjoy calmness 
and serenity of mind, I will now communicate to you the thoughts 
of my heart, and those things that I know to be true. 

“ Brother ,—As you have lived with the white people, you have 
not had the same advantage of knowing that the great being above, 
feeds his people, and gives them their meat in due season, as we 
Indians have, who are frequently out of provisions, and yet are 
wonderfully supplied, and that so frequently, that it is evidently the 
hand of the great Owaneeyo*, that doth this: whereas the white 
people have commonly large stocks of tame cattle, that they can 
kill when they please, and also their barns and cribs filled with 
grain, and therefore have not the same opportunity of seeing and 
knowing that they are supported by the Ruler of heaven and earth. 

“ Brother ,—I know that you are now afraid that we will all per¬ 
ish with hunger, but you have no just reason to fear this. 

“ Brother , —I have been young, but am now old—I have been 
frequently under the like circumstances that we now are, and that 
some time or other in almost every year of my life ; yet, I have 
hitherto been supported, and my wants supplied in time of need. 

“ Brother , —Owaneeyo sometimes suffers us to be in want, in 
order to teach us our dependence upon him, and to let us know that 
we are to love and serve him : and likewise to know the worth of 
the favours that we receive, and to make us more thankful. 

“ Brother , —Be assured that you will be supplied with food, and 
that just in the right time; but you must continue diligent in the 
use of means—go to sleep, and rise early in the morning and go a 
hunting—be strong, and exert yourself like a man, and the Great 
Spirit will direct your way.” 

The next morning I went out, and steered about an east course. 
I proceeded on slowly for about five miles, and saw deer frequently ; 
but as the crust on the snow made a great noise, they were always 
running before I spied them, so that I could not get a shot. A vio¬ 
lent appetite returned, and I became intolerably hungry—it was now 
that I concluded I would run off to Pennsylvania, my native coun¬ 
try. As the snow was on the ground, and Indian hunters almost 


* This is the name of God in their tongue, and signifies the owner and ruler 
of all things. 

5 * 


54 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


the whole of the way before me, I had but a poor prospect of 
making my escape, but my case appeared desperate. If I staid here, 
I thought I would perish with hunger, and if I met with Indians, 
they could but kill me. 

I then proceeded on as fast as I could walk, and when I got about 
ten or twelve miles from our hut, I came upon fresh buffalo tracks ; 
I pursued after, and in a short time came in sight of them—as they 
were passing through a small glade—I ran with all my might, and 
headed them, where I lay in ambush, and killed a very large cow. 
I immediately kindled a fire and began to roast meat, but could not 
wait till it was done—I ate it almost raw. When hunger was 
abated, I began to be tenderly concerned for my old Indian brother, 
and the little boy 1 had left in a perishing condition. I made haste 
and packed up what meat I could carry, secured what I left from 
the wolves, and returned homewards. 

I scarcely thought on the old man’s speech while I was almost 
distracted with hunger, but on my return was much affected with it, 
reflected on myself for my hard-heartedness and ingratitude, in 
attempting to run off and leave the venerable old man and little boy 
to perish with hunger. I also considered how remarkably the old 
man’s speech had been verified in our providentially obtaining a sup¬ 
ply. I thought also of that part of his speech which treated of the 
fractious dispositions of hungry people, which was the only excuse 
I had for my base inhumanity, in attempting to leave them in the 
most deplorable situation. 

As it was moonlight, I got home to our hut, and found the old 
man in his usual good humour. He thanked me for my exertion, 
and bid me sit down, as I must certainly be fatigued, and he com¬ 
manded Nunganey to make haste and cook. I told him I would 
cook for him, and let the boy lay some meat on the coals for him¬ 
self—which he did, but ate it almost raw, as I had done. I imme¬ 
diately hung on the kettle with some water, and cut the beef in thin 
slices, and put them in:—when it had boiled awhile, I proposed 
taking it off the fire, but the old man replied, “ let it be done 
enough.” This he said in as patient and unconcerned a manner, as 
if he had not wanted one single meal. He commanded Nunganev 
to eat no more beef at that time, lest he might hurt himself; but 
told him to sit down, and after some time he might sup some broth 
—this command he reluctantly obeyed. 

When we were all refreshed, Tecaughretanego delivered a speech 
upon the necessity and pleasure of receiving the necessary supports 
of life with thankfulness, knowing that Owaneeyo is the great giver. 
Such speeches from an Indian, may be thought by those who are 
unacquainted with them, altogether incredible ; but when we reflect 
on the Indian war, we may readily conclude that they are not an igno¬ 
rant or stupid sort of people, or they would not have been such fatal 
enemies. When they came into our country they outwitted us— 
and when we sent armies into their country, they outgeneralled and 
beat us with inferior force. Let us also take into consideration that 


COLONEL JAMES 8MITH. 


55 


Tecaughretanego, was no common person, but was, among the In¬ 
dians, as Socrates in the ancient heathen world ; and, it may be, 
equal to him—if not in wisdom and learning, yet, perhaps, in pati¬ 
ence and fortitude. Notwithstanding Tecaughretanego’s uncommon 
natural abilities, yet in the sequel of this history you will see the 
deficiency of the light of nature, unaided by revelation, in this truly 
great man. 

The next morning Tecaughretanego desired me to go back and 
bring another load of buffalo beef: as I proceeded to do so, about 
five miles from our hut I found a bear tree. As a sapling grew near 
the tree, and reached near the hole that the bear went in at, I got 
dry dozed or rotten wood, that would catch and hold fire almost as 
well as spunk. This tvood I tied up in bunches, fixed them on my 
back, and then climbed up the sapling, and with a pole I put them, 
touched with fire, into the hole, and then came down and took my 
gun in my hand. After some time the bear came out, and I killed 
and skinned it, picked up a load of the meat, (after securing the 
remainder from the wolves,) and returned home before night. On 
my return, my old brother and his son were much rejoiced at my 
success. After this we had plenty of provisions. 

We remained here until some time in April, 1758. At this time 
Tecaughretanego had recovered so that he could walk about. We 
made a bark canoe, embarked, and went down Ollentangy some 
distance, but the water being low, we were in danger of splitting our 
canoe upon the rocks; therefore, Tecaughretanego concluded we 
would encamp on shore, and pray for rain. 

When we encamped, Tecaughretanego made himself a sweat- 
house, which he did by sticking a number of hoops in the ground, 
each hoop forming a semi-circle—this he covered all round with 
blankets and skins ; he then prepared hot stones, which he rolled 
into this hut, and then went into it himself with a little kettle of 
w r ater in his hand, mixed with a variety of herbs, which he had 
formerly cured, and had now with him in his pack—they afforded 
an oderiferous perfume. When he was in, he told me to pull down 
the blankets behind him, and cover all up close, which I did, and 
then he began to pour water upon the hot stones, and to sing aloud. 
He continued in this vehement hot place about fifteen minutes:— 
all this he did in order to purify himself before he would address 
the Supreme Being. When he came out of this sweat-house, he 
began to burn tobacco and pray. He began each petition with oh , 
/to, oh, /to, which is a kind of aspiration, and signifies an ardent 
\yish. I observed that all his petitions were only for immediate or 
present temporal blessings. He began his address by thanksgiving 
in the following manner: 

“ O Great Being ! I thank thee that I have obtained the use of 
my legs again—that I am now able to walk about and kill turkeys, 
6ic. without feeling exquisite pain and misery: I know that thou 
art a hearer and a helper, and therefore I will call upon thee. 

“ Oh, ho, oh, ho, 


56 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


“ Grant that my knees and ankles may be right well, and that I 
may be able, not only to walk, but to run, and to jump logs, as I 
did last fall. 

“ Oh, ho , oh, ho, 

“ Grant that on this voyage we may frequently kill bears, as they 
may be crossing the Sciota and Sandusky. 

“ Oh, ho, oh, ho, 

“ Grant, that we may kill plenty of turkeys along the banks, to 
stew with our fat bear meat. 

“ Oh, ho, oh, ho, 

“ Grant that rain may come to raise the Ollentangy about two or 
three feet, that we may cross in safety down to Sciota, without 
danger of our canoe being wrecked on the rocks :—and now, O 
Great Being! thou knowest how matters stand—thou knowest that 
I am a great lover of tobacco, and though I know not when I may 
get any more, I now make a present of the last 1 have unto thee, as 
a free burnt offering; therefore I expect thou wilt hear and grant 
these requests, and I, thy servant, will return thee thanks, and lov© 
thee for thy gifts.” 

During the whole of this scene I sat by Tecaughretanego, and as 
he went through it with the greatest solemnity, I was seriously 
affected with his prayers. I remained duly composed until he 
came to the burning of the tobacco ; and as I knew that he was a 
great lover of it, and saw him cast the last of it into the fire, it 
excited in me a kind of merriment, and I insensibly smiled. 
Tecaughretanego observed me laughing, which displeased him, and 
occasioned him to address me in the following manner : 

“ Brother ,—I have somewhat to say to you, and I hope you will 
not be offended when I tell you of your faults. You know that 
wfaen you were reading your books in town, I would not let the 
boys or any one disturb you ; but now, when I was praying, I saw 
you laughing. I do not think that you look upon praying as a 
foolish thing ; I believe you pray yourself. But, perhaps you may 
think my mode, or manner of praying foolish; if so, you ought in 
a friendly manner to instruct me, and not to make sport of sacred 
things.” 

I acknowledged my error, and on this he handed me his pipe to 
smoke, in token of friendship and reconciliation, though at this 
time he had nothing to smoke but red willow bark. I told him 
something of the method of reconciliation with an offended God, a» 
revealed in my Bible, which I had then in possession. He said 
that he liked my story better than that of the French priests, but he 
thought that he was now too old to begin to learn a new religion, 
therefore he should continue to worship God in the way he had 
been taught, and that if salvation or future happiness was to be had 
in his way of worship, he expected he would obtain it, and if it 
was inconsistent with the honour of the Great Spirit to accept of 
him in his own way of worship, he hoped that Owaneeyo would 
accept of him in the way I had mentioned, or in some other way, 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


57 


though lie might now be ignorant of the channel through which 
favour or mercy might be conveyed. lie said that he believed that 
Owaneeyo would hear and help every one that sincerely waited 
upon him. 

Here we may see how far the light of nature could go ; perhaps 
we see it here almost in its highest extent. Notwithstanding the 
just views that this great man entertained of Providence, yet we 
now see him (though he acknowledged his guilt) expecting'to ap¬ 
pease the Diety, and procure his favour, by burning a little tobacco. 
We may observe that all heathen nations, as far as we can find out 
either by tradition or the light of nature, agree with revelation in 
this, that sacrific is necessary, or that some kind of atonement is to 
be made in order to remove guilt, and reconcile them to God. This, 
accompanied with numberless other witnesses, is sufficient evidence 
of the rationality of the truth of the scriptures. 

A few days after Tecaughretanego had gone through his ceremo¬ 
nies, and finished his prayers, the rain came and raised the creek a 
sufficient height, so that we passed in safety down to Sciota, and 
proceeded up to the carrying place. Let us now describe the land 
on this route, from our winter hut and down Ollentangy to the 
Sciota, and up i* to the carrying place. 

About our winter cabin is chiefly first and second rate land. A 
considerable way up Ollentangy on the south-west side thereof, or 
betwixt it and the Miami, there is a very large prairie, and from 
this prairie down Ollentangy to Sciota, is generally first rate land. 
The timber is walnut, sugar tree, ash, buckeye, locust, wild cherry, 
and spice wood, intermixed with somp oak and beech. From the 
mouth of Ollentangy, on the east side of Sciota, up to the carrying 
place, there is a large body of first and second rate land, and 
tolerably well watered. The timber is ash, sugar tree, walnut, 
locust, oak, and beech. Up near the carrying place the land is a 
little hilly, but the soil good. We proceeded from this place down 
Sandusky, and in our passage we killed four bears, and a number 
of turkeys. Tecaughretanego appeared now fully persuaded that all 
this came in answer to his prayers—and who can say with any 
degree of certainty that it was not so ? 

When we came to the little lake at the mouth of Sandusky, we 
called at a Wyandot town that was then there, called Sunyendeand. 
Here we diverted ourselves several days, by catching rock fish in a 
small creek, the name of which is also Sunyendeand, which signifies 
rock fish. They fished in the night with lights, and struck the fish 
with gigs or spears. The rock fish there, when they begin first to 
run up the creek to spawn, are exceedingly fat, sufficiently so to 
fry themselves. The first night we scarcely caught fish enough for 
present use, for all that was in the town. 

The next morning I met with a prisoner at this place, by the 
name of Thompson, who had been taken from Virginia. He told 
me, if the Indians would only omit disturbing the fish for one night, 
he could catch more fish than the whole town could make use of. 


58 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


I told Mr. Thompson, that if he was certain he could do this, that I 
would use my influence with the Indians, to let the fish alone for 
one night. I applied to the chiefs, who agreed to my proposal, 
and said they were anxious to see what the Great Knife (as they 
called the Virginian) could do. Mr. Thompson, with the assistance 
of some other prisoners, set to work, and made a hoop net of elm 
bark; they then cut down a tree across the creek, and stuck in 
stakes at the lower side of it to prevent the fish from passing up, 
leaving only a gap at the one side of the creek: here he sat with 
his net, and when he felt the fish touch the net he drew it up, and 
frequently would haul out two or three rock fish that would weigh 
about five or six pounds each. He continued at this until he had 
hauled out about a wagon load, and then left the gap open, in order 
to let them pass up, for they could not go far on account of the shal¬ 
low water. Before day Mr. Thompson shut it up, to prevent them 
from passing down, in order to let the Indians have some diversion 
in killing them in daylight. 

When the news ot the fish came to town, the Indians all collect¬ 
ed, and with surprise beheld the large heap of fish, and applauded 
the ingenuity of the Virginian. When they saw the number of 
them that were confined in the water above the tree, the young 
Indians ran back to the town, and in a short time returned with 
their spears, gigs, bows and arrows, &c., and were the chief part of 
that day engaged in killing rock fish, insomuch that we had more 
than we could use or preserve. As we had no salt, or any way to 
keep them, they lay upon the banks, and after some time, great 
numbers of turkey buzzards and eagles collected together and de¬ 
voured them. 

Shortly after this we left Sunyendeand, and in three days arrived 
at Detroit, where we remained this summer. 

Sometime in May we heard that General Forbes, with seven 
thousand men, was preparing to carry on a campaign against Fort 
Du Quesne, which then stood near where Fort Pitt was afterwards 
erected. Upon receiving this news, a number of runners were sent 
off by the French commander at Detroit, to urge the different tribes 
of Indian warriors to repair to Fort Du Quesne. 

Some time in July, 1758, the Ottawas, Jibe was, Potowatomies, 
and Wyandots, rendezvoused at Detroit, and marched off to Fort 
Du Quesne, to prepare for the encounter of General Forbes. The 
common report was, that they would serve him as they did General 
Braddock, and obtain much plunder. From this time until fall, we 
had frequent accounts of Forbes’ army, by Indian runners, that were 
sent out to watch their motion. They espied them frequently from 
the mountains ever after they left Fort Loudon. Notwithstanding 
their vigilance, Colonel Grant, with his Highlanders, stole a march 
upon them, and in the night took possession of a hill about eighty 
rods from Fort Du Quesne: this hill is on that account called 
Grant’s hill to this day. The French and Indians knew not that 
Grant and his men were there, until they beat the drum and played 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH* 


59 ; 


upon the bagpipes, just at daylight. They then flew to arms, and 
the Indians ran up under cover of the banks of Allegheny and Mo- 
nongahela, for some distance, and then sallied out from the banks of 
the rivers, and took possession of the hill above Grant; and as he 
was on the point of it in sight of the fort, they immediately sur¬ 
rounded him, and as he had his Highlanders in ranks, and in very 
close order, and the Indians scattered, and concealed behind trees, 
they defeated him with the loss only of a few warriors:—most of 
the Highlanders were killed or taken prisoners. 

After this defeat, the Indians held a council, but were divided in 
their opinions. Some said that General Forbes would now turn 
back, and go home the way that he came, as Dunbar had done when 
General Braddock was defeated: others supposed that he would 
come on. The French urged the Indians to stay and see the event: 
but as it was hard for the Indians to be absent from their squaws 
and children at this season of the year, a great many of them return¬ 
ed home to their hunting. After this, the remainder of the Indians, 
some French regulars, and a great number of Canadians, marched 
off in quest of General Forbes. They met his army near Fort 
Ligoneer, and attacked them, but were frustrated in their design. 
They said that Forbes’ men were beginning to learn the art of war, 
and that there were a great number ot American riflemen along with 
the red coats, who scattered out, took trees, and were good marks¬ 
men ; therefore they found they could not accomplish their design, 
and were obliged to retreat. When they returned from the battle to 
Fort Du Quesne, the Indians concluded that they would go to their 
hunting. The French endeavoured to persuade them to stay and 
try another battle. The Indians said, if it was only the red-coats 
they had to do with, they could soon subdue them, but they could 
not withstand Ashcilecoa , or the Great Knife, which was the name 
they gave the Virginians. They then returned home to their hunt¬ 
ing, and the French evacuated the fort, which General Forbes 
came and took possession of without further opposition, late in the 
year 1758, and at this time began to build Fort Pitt. 

When Tecaughretanego had heard the particulars of Grant’s 
defeat, he said he could not well account for his contradictory and 
inconsistent conduct. He said, as the art. of war consists in am¬ 
bushing and surprising our enemies, and in preventing them from 
ambushing and surprising us; Grant, in the first place, acted like a 
wise and experienced officer, in artfully approaching in the night 
without being discovered; but when he came to the place, and the 
Indians were lying asleep outside of the fort, between him and the 
Allegheny river, in place of slipping up quietly, and falling upon 
them with their broadswords, they beat the drums and played upon 
the bagpipes. He said he could account for this inconsistent con¬ 
duct in no other way than by supposing that he had made too free 
with spirituous liquors during the night, and became intoxicated 
about daylight. But to return. 

This year we hunted up Sandusky, and down Sciota, and took 


60 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


nearly the same route that we had done the last hunting season. 
We had considerable success, and returned to Detroit, some time 
in April, 1759. 

Shortly after this, Tecaughretanego, his son Nunganey and my¬ 
self, went from Detroit, (in an elm bark canoe) to Caughnewaga, a 
very ancient Indian town, about nine miles above Montreal, where 
I remained until about the first of July. I then heard of a French 
ship at Montreal that had English prisoners on board, in order to 
carry them over sea, and exchange them. I went privately off 
from the Indians, and got also on board, but as General Wolfe had 
stopped the river St. Lawrence, we were all sent to prison in Mon¬ 
treal, where I remained four months. Some time in November we 
were all sent off from this place to Crown Point, and exchanged. 

Early in the year 1760, I came home to Conococheague, and 
found that my people could never ascertain whether I was killed or 
taken, until my return. They received me with great joy, but 
were surprised to see me so much like an Indian, both in my gait 
and gesture. 

Upon inquiry, I found that my sweetheart was married a few 
days before I arrived. My feelings I must leave on this occasion 
for those of my readers to judge, who have felt the pangs of disap¬ 
pointed love, as it is impossible now for me to describe the emotion 
of soul I felt at that time. 

Now there was peace with the Indians, which lasted until the 
year 1763. Some time in May, this year, I married, and about 
that time the Indians again commenced hostilities, and were busily 
engaged in killing and scalping the frontier inhabitants in various 
parts of Pennsylvania. The whole Conococheague Valley, from 
the North to the South Mountain, had been almost entirely evacu¬ 
ated during Braddock’s war. This State was then a Quaker govern¬ 
ment, and at the first of this war the frontiers received no assistance 
from the State. As the people were now beginning to live at home 
again, they thought it hard to be driven away a second time, and 
were determined, if possible, to make a stand ; therefore they rais¬ 
ed as much money by collections and subscriptions, as would pay 
a company of riflemen for several months. The subscribers met, 
and elected a committee to manage the business. The committee 
elected me captain of this company of rangers, and gave me the ap¬ 
pointment of my own subalterns. I chose two of the most active 
young men that I could find, who had also been long in captivity 
with the Indians. As we enlisted our men, we dressed them uni¬ 
formly in the Indian manner, with breech-clouts, leggins, moccasins 
and green shrouds, which we wore in the same manner that the In¬ 
dians do, and nearly as the Highlanders wear their plaids. In place 
of hats we wore red handkerchiefs, and painted our faces red and 
black like Indian warriors. I taught them the Indian discipline, as 
I knew of no other at that time, which would answer the purpose 
much better than British. We succeeded beyond expectation in 
defending the frontiers, and were extolled by our employers. Near 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


61 


the conclusion of this expedition, I accepted of an ensign’s commis¬ 
sion in the regular service, under King George, in what was then 
called the Pennsylvania line. Upon my resignation, my lieutenant 
succeeded me in command, the iest of the time they were to serve. 
In the fall (the same year,) I went on the Susquehanna campaign 
against the Indians, under the command of General Armstrong. In 
this route we burnt the Delaware and Monsey towns, on the west 
branch of the Susquehanna, and destroyed all their corn. 

In the year 1764, I recived a lieutenant’s commission, and went 
out on General Bouquet’s campaign against the Indians on the 
Muskingum. Here we brought them to terms, and promised to be 
at peace with them, upon condition that they would give up all our 
people that they had then in captivity among them. They then 
delivered unto us three hundred of the prisoners, and said that they 
could not collect them all at this time, as it was now late in the 
year, and they were far scattered ; but they promised that they 
would bring them all into Fort Pitt early next spring, and as secu¬ 
rity that they would do this, they delivered to us six of their chiefs 
as hostages. Upon this we settled a cessation of arms for six 
months, and promised upon their fulfilling the aforesaid condition, 
to make with them a permanent peace. 

A little below Fort Pitt the hostages all made their escape. 
Shortly after this the Indians stole horses, and killed some people 
on the frontiers. The king’s proclamation was then circulating 
and set up in various public places, prohibiting any person from 
trading with the Indians until further orders. 

Notwithstanding all this, about the 1st of March, 1765, a number 
of waggons loaded with Indian goods, and warlike stores, were sent 
from Philadelphia to Henry Pollens, Conococheague, and from 
thence seventy pack-horses were loaded with these goods, in order 
to carry them to Fort Pitt. This alarmed the country, and Mr. 
William Duffield raised about fifty armed men, and met the pack- 
horses at the place where Mercersburg now stands. Mr. Duffield 
desired the employers to store up their goods and not proceed until 
further orders. They made light of this, and went over the North 
Mountain, where they lodged in a small valley called the Great 
Cove. Mr. Duffield and his party followed after, and came to their 
lodging, and again urged them to store up their goods: he reasoned 
with them on the impropriety of their proceedings, and the great 
danger the frontier inhabitants would be exposed to, if the Indians 
should now get a supply: he said, as it was well known that they 
had scarcely any ammunition, and were almost naked, to supply 
them now would be a kind of murder, and would be illegally trading 
at the expense of the blood and treasure of the frontiers. Notwith¬ 
standing his powerful reasoning, these traders made game of what 
he said, and would only answer him by ludicrous burlesque. 

When I beheld this, and found that Mr. Duffield would not com¬ 
pel them to store up their goods, I collected ten of my old warriors, 
that 1 had formerly disciplined in the Indian way, went oflf privately 
6 


02 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


after night, and encamped in the woods. The next day, as usual, 
we blacked and painted, and waylaid them near Sidelong Hill. I 
scattered my men about forty rod along the side of the road, and 
ordered every two to take a tree, and about eight or ten rod between 
each couple, with orders to keep a reserve fire, one not to fire until 
his comrade had loaded his gun—by this means we kept up a con¬ 
stant, slow fire upon them, from front to rear. We then heard 
nothing of these traders’ merriment or burlesque. When they saw 
their pack-horses falling close by them, they called out, pray , gen¬ 
tlemen, tv hat would you have us to do ? The reply was, collect 
all your loads to the front, and unload them in one place; take 
your private property, and immediately retire. When they were 
gone, we burnt what they left, which consisted of blankets, shirts, 
vermilion, lead, beads, wampum, tomahawks, scalping knives, &c. 

The traders went back to Fort Loudon, and applied to the com¬ 
manding officer there, and got a party of Highland soldiers, and 
went with them in quest of the robbers, as they called us, and with¬ 
out applying to a magistrate, or obtaining any civil authority, but 
barely upon suspicion, they took a number of creditable persons, 
(who were chiefly not any way concerned in this action,) and con¬ 
fined them in the guard-house in Fort Loudon. I then raised three 
hundred riflemen, marched to Fort Loudon, and encamped on a hill 
in sight of the fort. We were not long there, until we had more 
than double as many of the British troops prisoners in our camp, 
as they had of our people in the guard-house. Captain Grant, a 
Highland officer, who commanded Fort Loudon, then sent a flag of 
truce to our camp, where we settled a cartel, and gave them above 
two for one, which enabled us to redeem all our men from the guard¬ 
house, without further difficulty. 

After this, Captain Grant kept a number of rifle guns, which the 
Highlanders had taken from the country people, and refused to give 
them up. As he was riding out one day, we took him prisoner, and 
detained him until he delivered up the arms; we also destroyed a 
large quantity of gunpowder, that the traders had stored up, lest it 
might be conveyed privately to the Indians. The king’s troops, 
and our party, had now got entirely out of the channel of the civil 
law, and many unjustifiable things were done by both parties. This 
convinced me more than ever I had been before, of the absolute 
necessity of the civil law, in order to govern mankind. 

About this time, the following song was composed by Mr. Geo. 
Campbell, (an Irish gentleman, who had been educated in Dublin,) 
and was frequently sung to the tune of the Black Joke. 

Ye patriot souls, who love to sing, 

Who serve your country and your king, 

In wealth, peace and royal estate; 

Attention give, whilst I rehearse 
A modern fact, in jingling verse, 

How party interest strove what it could 
To profit itself by public blood, 

But justly met its merited fate. 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


63 


Lei all those Indian traders claim 
Their just reward, inglorious fame, 

For vile, base and treacherous ends. 

To Pollins, in the spring, they sent 
Much warlike store, with an intent 
To carry them to our barbarous foes, 

Expecting; that nobody dare oppose 
A present to their Indian friends. 

Astonish’d at the wild design, 

Frontier inhabitants combin’d 

With brave souls, to stop their career; 

Although some men apostatiz’d, 

Who first the grand attempt advis’d, 

The bold frontiers they bravely stood, 

To act for their king and their country’s good, 

In joint league, and strangers to fear. 

On March the fifth, in sixty-five, 

The Indian presents did arrive, 

In long pomp and cavalcade, 

Near Sidelong Hill, where, in disguise, 

Some patriots did their train surprise, 

And quick as lightning tumbled their loads, 

And kindled them bonfires in the woods, 

And mostly burnt their whole brigade. 

At Loudon, when they heard the news, 

They scarcely knew which way to choose, 

For blind rage and discontent; 

At length some soldiers they sent out, 

With guides for to conduct the route, 

And seized some men that were trav’ling there, 

And hurried them into Loudon, where 

They laid them fast with one consent. 

But men of resolution thought 
Too much to see their neighbours caught 
For no crime but false surmise; 

Forthwith they join’d a warlike band, 

And march’d to Loudon out of hand, 

And kept the jailers pris’ners there, 

Until our friends enlarged were, 

Without fraud or any disguise. 

Let mankind censure or commend 
This rash performance in the end, 

Then both sides will find their account. 

’Tis true no law can justify 
To burn our neighbour’s property, 

But when this property is design’d 
To serve the enemies of mankind, 

It’s high treason in the amount. 

After this, we kept up a guard of men on the frontiers, for several 
months, to prevent supplies being sent to the Indians, until it was 
proclaimed that Sir William Johnson had made peace with them, 
and then we let the traders pass unmolested. 

In the year 1766, I heard that Sir William Johnson, the king’s 
agent for settling affairs with the Indians, had purchased from them. 


64 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


all the land west of the Appalachian Mountains, that lay between 
the Ohio and the Cherokee River; as I knew by conversing with 
the Indians in their own tongue, that there was a large body of rich 
land there, I concluded I would take a tour westward, and explore 
that country. 

I set out about the last of June, 1766, and went, in the first place, 
to Holstein River, and from thence I travelled westward in company 
with Joshua Horton, Uriah Stone, William Baker and James Smith, 
who came from near Carlisle. There were only four while men of 
us, and a mulatto slave about eighteen years of age, that Mr. Horton 
had with him. We explored the country south of Kentucky, and 
there was no more sign of white men there then, than there is now 
west of the head waters of the Missouri. We also explored Cum¬ 
berland and Tennessee rivers, from Stone’s* river down to the Ohio. 

When we came to the mouth of Tennessee, my fellow travellers 
concluded that they would proceed to the Illinois, and see some 
more of the land to the west:—this I would not agree to. As I had 
already been longer from home than what I expected, I thought my 
wife would be distressed, and think I was killed by the Indians; 
therefore I concluded that I would return home. 1 sent my horse 
with my fellow travellers to the Illinois, as it was difficult to take a 
horse through the mountains. My comrades gave me the greatest 
part of the ammunition they then had, which amounted only to half 
a pound of powder, and lead equivalent. Mr. Horton also lent me 
his mulatto boy, and I then set off through the wilderness, for Car¬ 
olina. 

About eight days after I left my company at the mouth of Ten¬ 
nessee, on my journey eastward, I got a cane stab in my foot which 
occasioned my leg to swell, and I suffered much pain. I was now 
in a doleful situation—far from any of the human species, excepting 
black Jamie, or the savages, and 1 knew not when I might meet 
with them—my case appeared desperate, and I thought something 
must be done. All the surgical instruments I had, was a knife, a 
moccasin awl, and a pair of bullet moulds—with these I determined 
to draw the snag from my foot, if possible. I stuck the awl in the 
skin, and with the knife I cut the flesh away from around the cane, 
and then I commanded the mulatto fellow to catch it with the bullet 
moulds, and pull it out, which he did. When I saw it, it seemed a 
shocking thing to be in any person’s foot; it will therefore be sup¬ 
posed that I was very glad to have it out. The black fellow atten¬ 
ded upon me, and obeyed my directions faithfully. I ordered him 
to search for Indian medicine, and told him to get me a quantity of 
bark from the root of a lynn tree, which I made him beat on a stone, 
with a tomahawk, and boil it in a kettle, and with the ooze I bathed 
my feet and leg:—what remained when I had finished bathing, I 


♦Stone’s river is a south branch of Cumberland, and empties into it above Nash¬ 
ville. We first gave it this name in our Journal, in May 1767, after one of my fel¬ 
low travellers, Mr. Uriah Stone ; and I am told that it retains the same name unto 
this day 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


66 

boiled to a jelly, and made poultices thereof. As I had no rags, I 
made use of the green moss that grows upon logs, and wrapped it 
round with elm bark: by this means, (simple as it may seem,) the 
swelling and inflammation in a great measure abated. As stormy 
weather appeared, 1 ordered Jamie to make us a shelter, which he 
did by erecting forks and poles, and covering them over with cane 
tops, like a fodder-house. It was about one hundred yards from a 
large buffalo road. As we were almost out of provision. I comman¬ 
ded Jamie to take my gun, and I went along as well as I could, con¬ 
cealed myself near the road, and killed a buffalo. When this was 
done, we jirked* the lean, and fried the tallow out of the fat meat, 
which we kept to stew with our jirk as we needed it. 

While I lay at this place, all the books I had to read, was a Psalm 
Book, and Watts upon Prayer. Whilst in this situation, I compo¬ 
sed the following verses, which I then frequently sung. 

Six weeks I’ve in this desert been, l 
With one mulatto lad : 

Excepting this poor stupid slave, 

No company I had. 

In solitude I here remain, 

A cripple very sore, 

No friend or neighbour to be found, 

My case for to deplore. 

I’m far from home, far from the wife, 

Which in my bosom lay, 

Far from the children dear, which used 
Around me for to play. 

This doleful circumstance cannot 
Mv happiness prevent, 

While peace of conscieuce I enjoy, 

Great comfort and content. 

I continued in this place until I could walk slowly, without crutch¬ 
es. As I now lay near a great buffalo road, I was afraid the Indians 
might be passing that way, and discover my fire-place, therefore I 
moved off some distance, where I remained until I killed an elk. 
As my foot was yet sore, I concluded that I would stay here until it 
was healed, lest by travelling too soon, it might again be inflamed. 

In a few weeks after, I proceeded on, and in October, I arrived in 
Carolina. I had now been eleven months in the wilderness, and 
during this time, I neither saw bread, money, women, nor spiritu¬ 
ous liquors; and three months of which, I saw none of the human 
species, except Jamie. 

When 1 came into the settlement, my clothes were almost worn 
out, and the boy had nothing on him that ever was spun. He had 
buckskin leggins, moccasins and breech-clout—a bear skin dressed 
with the hair on, which he belted about him, and a racoon skin cap. 

* Jirk, is a name well known by the hunters and frontier inhabitants, for meat 
eut in small pieces and laid on a scaffold, over a slow fire, whereby it is roasted till 
it is thoroughly dry. 


6 * 


66 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


I had not travelled far, after I came in, before I was strictly examin¬ 
ed by the inhabitants. I told them the truth, and where I came 
from, &c.; but my story appeared so strange to them, that they did 
not believe me. They said that they had never heard of any one 
coming through the mountains from the mouth of Tennessee, and 
if any one would undertake such a journey, surely no man would 
lend him his slave. They said that they thought that all 1 had told 
them were lies, and on suspicion they took me into custody, and set 
a guard over me. 

While I was confined here, I met with a reputable old acquaint¬ 
ance, who voluntarily become my voucher, and also told me of a 
number of my acquaintances that now lived near this place, who 
had moved from Pennsylvania; on this being made public I was 
liberated. I went to a magistrate and obtained a pass, and one of 
my old acquaintances made me a present of a shirt. I then cast 
away my old rags; and all the clothes I now had, was an old bea¬ 
ver hat, buckskin leggins, moccasins, and a new shirt; also an old 
blanket, which I commonly carried on my back in good weather. 
Being thus equipped, I marched on with my white shirt loose, and 
Jamie with his bear skin about him:—myself appearing white, and 
Jamie very black, alarmed the dogs wherever we came, so that they 
barked violently. The people frequently came out, and asked me 
where we came from, &c. I told them the truth, but they for the 
most part suspected my story, and I generally had to show them my 
pass. In this way I came on to Fort Cliissel, where I left Jamie at 
Mr. Horton’s negro quarter, according to promise. I went from 
thence to Mr. George Adams’s, on Reed Creek, where I had lodg¬ 
ed, and where I had left my clothes as I was going out from home. 
When I dressed myself in good clothes, and mounted on horseback, 
no man ever asked me for a pass ; therefore I concluded that a horse 
thief, or even a robber, might pass without interruption, provided 
he was only well dressed, whereas the shabby villain would be im¬ 
mediately detected. 

I returned home to Conoeoeheague, in the fall of 1767. When I 
arrived, I found that my wife and friends had despaired of ever see¬ 
ing me again, as they had heard that I was killed by the Indians, 
and my horse brought into one of the Cherokee towns. 

In the year 1769, the Indians again made incursions on the fron¬ 
tiers ; yet the traders continued carrying goods and warlike stores to 
them. The frontiers took the alarm, and a number of persons col¬ 
lected, destroyed and plundered a quantity of their powder, lead &c. 
in Bedford county. Shortly after this, some of these persons, with 
others, were apprehended and laid in irons, in the guard-house in 
Fort Bedford, on suspicion of being the perpetrators of this crime. 

Though I did not altogether approve of the conduct of this new 
club of black boys, yet 1 concluded that they should not lie in irons 
in the guard-house, or remain in confinement, by arbitrary or mili¬ 
tary power. I resolved, therefore, if possible, to release them, if 
they even should be tried by the civil law afterwards. I collected 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


67 


eighteen of my old black boys, that I had seen tried in the Indian 
war, &c. I did not desire a large party, lest they should be too 
much alarmed at Bedford, and accordingly prepared for us. We 
marched along the public road in daylight, and made no secret of 
our design :—we told those whom we met, that we were going to 
take Fort Bedford, which appeared to them a very unlikely story. 
Before this, I made it known to one William Thompson, a man 
whom I could trust, and who lived there : him I employed as a spy, 
and sent him along on horseback before, with orders to meet me at 
a certain place near Bedford, one hour before day. The next day a 
little before sunset, we encamped near the crossings of Juniata, 
about fourteen miles from Bedford, and erected tents, as though we 
intended staying all night, and not a man in my company knew to 
the contrary, save myself. Knowing that they would hear this in 
Bedford, and wishing it to be the case, I thought to surprise them, 
by stealing a march. 

As the moon rose about eleven o’clock, I ordered my boys to 
march, and we went on at the rate of five miles an hour, until we 
met Thompson at the place appointed. He told us that the com¬ 
manding officer had frequently heard of us by travellers, and had 
ordered thirty men upon guard. He said they knew our number, 
and only made game of the notion of eighteen men coming to res¬ 
cue the prisoners, but they did not expect us until towards the mid¬ 
dle of the day. I asked him if the gate was open ? He said it was 
then shut, but he expected they would open it as usual, at daylight, 
as they apprehended no danger. I then moved my men privately 
up under the banks of Juniata, where we lay concealed about one 
hundred yards from the fort gate. I had ordered the men to keep 3 
profound silence, until we got into it. I then sent off Thompson 
again, to spy. At daylight he returned, and told us that the gate 
was open, and three sentinels were standing on the wall—that the 
guards were taking a morning dram, and the arms standing together 
in one place. I then concluded to rush into the fort, and told 
Thompson to run before me to the arms. We ran with all our 
might, and as it was a misty morning, the sentinels scarcely saw us, 
until we were within the gate, and took possession of the arms. 
Just as we were entering, two of them discharged their guns, though 
I do not believe they aimed at us. We then raised a shout, which 
surprised the town, though some of them were well pleased with 
the news. We compelled a blacksmith to take the irons off the 
prisoners, and then we left the place. This, I believe, was the first 
British fort in America, that was taken by what they called Ameri¬ 
can rebels. 

Some time after this, I took a journey westward, in order to sur¬ 
vey some located land I had on and near the Youhogany. As I pass¬ 
ed near Bedford, while I was walking and leading my horse, I was 
overtaken by some men on horseback, like travellers. One of them 
asked my name, and on telling it, they immediately pulled out their 
pistols, and presented them at ine, calling upon me to deliver myself, 


68. 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


or I was a dead man. I stepped back, presented my rifle, and told 
them to stand off. One of them snapped a pistol at me, and another 
was preparing to shoot, when I fired my piece :—one of them also 
fired near the same time, and one of my fellow travellers fell. The 
assailants then rushed up, and as my gun was empty, they took and 
tied me. I charged them with killing my fellow traveller, and told 
them he was a man that I had accidentally met with on the road, 
that had nothing to do with the public quarrel. They asserted that 
I had killed him. I told them that my gun blowed, or made a slow 
fire—that I had her from my face before she went off, or I would 
not have missed my mark; and from the position my piece was in 
when it went off, it was not likely that my gun killed this man, yet 
I acknowledged I was not certain that it was not so. They then 
carried me to Bedford, laid me in irons in the guard-house, summon¬ 
ed a jury of the opposite party, and held an inquest. The jury 
brought me in guilty of wilful murder. As they were afraid to keep 
me long in Bedford, for fear of a rescue, they sent me privately 
through the wilderness to Carlisle, where I was laid in heavy irons. 

Shortly after 1 came here, we heard that a number of my old black 
boys were coming to tear down the jail. I told the sheriff that I 
would not be rescued, as I knew that the indictment was wrong; 
therefore I wished to stand my trial. As I had found the black boys 
to be always under good command, I expected I could prevail on 
them to return, and therefore wished to write to them—to this the 
sheriff readily agreed. I wrote a letter to them, with irons on my 
hands, which was immediately sent; but as they had heard that I 
was in irons, they would come on. When we heard they were 
near the town, I told the sheriff I would speak to them out of the 
window, and if the irons were off’, I made no doubt but I could pre¬ 
vail on them to desist. The sheriff ordered them to be taken off, 
and just as they were taking oft’ my bands, the black boys came run¬ 
ning up to the jail. I went to the window and called to them, and 
they gave attention. I told them, as my indictment was for wilful 
murder, to admit of being rescued, would appear dishonourable. 
I thanked them for their kind intentions, and told them the greatest 
favour they could confer upon me, would be to grant me this one re¬ 
quest to withdraw from the jail, and return in peace: to this they 
complied, and withdrew. While I was speaking, the irons were 
taken off my feet, and never again put on. 

Before this party arrived at Conococheague, they met about three 
hundred more, on the way, coming to their assistance, and were re¬ 
solved to take me out; they then returned, and all came together to 
Carlisle. The reason they gave for coming again was, because they 
thought that government was so enraged at me, that I would not get 
a fair trial; but my friends and myself together, again prevailed on 
them to return in peace. 

At this time the public papers were partly filled with these occur¬ 
rences. The following is an extract from the Pennsylvania Ga¬ 
zette, No. 2132, November 2d, 1769. 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


60 


Conococheague , October 16/A, 1769. 

*« Messrs. Hall <fc Sellers, 

“ Please to give the following narrative a place in your Gazette, 
and you will much oblige 

“ Your humble servant, 

“ William Smith. 

“ Whereas, in this Gazette of September 28th, 1769, there ap¬ 
peared an extract of a letter from Bedford, September 12th, 1769, 
relative to James Smith, as being apprehended on suspicion of being 
a black boy, then killing his companion, &c., I look upon myself as 
bound by all the obligations of truth, justice to character, and to the 
world, to set the matter in a true light; by which, I hope the im¬ 
partial world will be enabled to obtain a more just opinion of the 
present scheme of acting in this end of the country, as also to form 
a true idea of the truth, candour, and ingenuity of the author of the 
said extract, in stating that matter in so partial a light. The state 
of the case, (which can be made appear by undeniable evidence,) 
was this : ‘ James Smith, (who is styled the principal ringleader of 
the black boys, by the said author,) together with his younger bro¬ 
ther and brother-in-law, were going out in order to survey and im¬ 
prove their land on the waters of Youghoghany, and as the time of 
their return was long, they took with them their arms, and horses 
loaded with the necessaries of life: and as one of Smith’s brothers- 
in-law was an artist in surveying, he had also with him the instru¬ 
ments for that business. Travelling on the way, within about nine 
miles of Bedford, they overtook and joined company with one John¬ 
son and Moorhead, who likewise had horses loaded, part of which 
loading was liquor, and part seed wheat, their intentions being to 
make improvements on their lands. When they arrived at the par¬ 
ting of the road on this side Bedford, the company separated, one 
part going through the town, in order to get a horse shod, were ap¬ 
prehended, and put under confinement, but for what crime they 
knew not, and treated in a manner utterly inconsistent with the laws 
of their country, and the liberties of Englishmen : whilst the other 
part, viz. James Smith, Johnson and Moorhead, taking along the 
other road, were met by John Holmes, Esq. to whom James Smith 
spoke in a friendly manner, but received no answer. Mr. Holmes 
hasted, and gave an alarm in Bedford, from whence a party of men 
were sent in pursuit of them ; but Smith and his companions not 
having the least thought of any such measures being taken, (why 
should they?) travelled slowly on. After they had gained the place 
where the roads joined, they delayed until the other part of their 
company should come up. At this time a number of men came 
riding, like men travelling; they asked Smith his name, which he 
told them—on which they immediately assaulted him as a highway¬ 
man, and with presented pistols commanded him to surrender or he 
was a dead man; upon which Smith stepped back—asked them if 


70 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


they were highwaymen, charging them at the same time to stand off, 
when immediately, Robert George, (one of the assailants,) snapped 
a pistol at Smith’s head, and that before Smith offered to shoot, 
(which said George himself acknowledged upon oath;) whereupon 
Smith presented his gun at another of the assailants, who was pre¬ 
paring to shoot him with his pistol. The said assailant having a 
hold of Johnson by the arm, two shots were fired, one by Smith’s 
gun, the other from a pistol, so quick as just to be distinguishable, 
and Johnson fell. After which, Smith was taken and carried into 
Bedford, where John Holmes, Esq., the informer, held an inquest 
on the corpse, one of the assailants being as an evidence, (nor was 
there any other troubled about the matter,) Smith was brought in 
guilty of wilful murder, and so committed to prison. But a jealousy 
arising in the breasts of many, that the inquest, either through inad¬ 
vertency, ignorance, or some other default, was not so fair as it 
ought to be, William Deny, coroner of the county, upon requisition 
made, thought proper to re-examine the matter, and summoned a 
jury of unexceptionable men, out of three townships—men whose 
candour, probity, and honesty is unquestionable with all who are 
acquainted with them, and having raised the corpse, held an inquest 
in a solemn manner, during three days. In the course of their scru¬ 
tiny they found Johnson’s shirt blacked about the bullet hole, by the 
powder of the charge by which he was killed, whereupon they ex¬ 
amined into the distance Smith stood from Johnson when he shot, 
and one of the assailants being admitted to oath, swore to the re¬ 
spective spots of ground they both stood on at the time, which the 
jury measured, and found to be twenty-three feet, nearly ; then, try¬ 
ing the experiment of shooting at the same shirt, both with and 
against the wind, and at the same distance, found no effects, nor the 
least stain from the powder on the shirt:—and let any person that 
pleases make the experiment, and I will venture to affirm he shall 
find that powder will not stain at half the distance above mentioned, 
if shot out of a rifle gun, which Smith’s was. Upon the whole, 
the jury, after the most accurate examination and mature delibera¬ 
tion, brought in their verdict that some one of the assailants them¬ 
selves must necessarily have been the perpetrator of the murder. 

“ I have now represented the matter in its true and genuine col¬ 
ours, and which I will abide by. I only beg liberty to make a few 
remarks and reflections on the above mentioned extracts. The au¬ 
thor says, ‘ James Smith, with two others in company, passed round 
the town, without touching,’ by which it is plain he would insinu¬ 
ate and make the public believe that Smith, and that part of the 
company, had taken some by-road, which is utterly false, for it was 
the king’s highway, and the straightest, that through Bedford being 
something to the one side ; nor would the other part of the company 
have gone through the town but for the reason already given. Again, 
the author says, that ‘four men were sent in pursuit of Smith and 
his companions, who overtook them about five miles from Bedford, 
snd commanded them to surrender, on which Smith presented his 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


71 


gun at one of the men, who was struggling with his companion, 
fired at him, and shot his companion through the the back.’ Here I 
would just remark again, the unfair and partial account given of this 
matter by the author : not a word mentioned of George snapping his 
pistol before Smith offered to shoot, or of another of the assailants 
actually firing his pistol, though he confessed himself afterwards he 
had done so;—not the least mention of the company’s baggage, 
which, to men in the least open to a fair inquiry, would have been 
sufficient proof of the innocence of their intentions. Must not an 
effusive blush overspread the face of the partial representer of facts, 
when he finds the veil he had thrown over truth, thus pulled aside, 
and she exposed to naked view ? Suppose it should be granted that 
Smith shot the man, (which is not, and I presume never can be pro¬ 
ven 1o be the case,) I would only ask, was he not in his own defence? 
Was he not publicly assaulted? Was he not charged, at the peril 
of his life, to surrender, without knowing for what ? No warrant 
being shown him, or any declaration made of their authority. And 
seeing these things are so, would any judicious man, any person in 
the least acquainted with the laws of the land, or morality, judge 
him guilty of wilful murder? But 1 humbly presume, every one 
who has an opportunity of seeing this, will by this time be convin¬ 
ced, that the proceedings against Smith were truly unlawful and ty¬ 
rannical, perhaps unparalleled by any instance in a civilized nation; 
for to endeavour to kill a man in the apprehending of him, in order 
to bring him to trial for a fact, and that too on a supposed one, is 
undoubtedly beyond all bounds of law or government. 

“ If the author of the extract thinks I have treated him unfair, or 
that I have advanced any thing he can controvert, let him come for¬ 
ward as a fair antagonist, and make his defence, and 1 will, if called 
upon, vindicate all that I have advanced against him or his abettors. 

“William Smith.” 

I remained in prison four months, and during this time I often 
thought of those that were confined in the time of the persecution, 
who declared their prison was converted into a palace. I now lear¬ 
ned what this meant, as I never since or before experienced four 
months of equal happiness. 

When the supreme court sat, I was severely prosecuted. At the 
commencement of my trial, the judges, in a very unjust and arbitra¬ 
ry manner, rejected several of my evidences ; yet, as Robert George, 
(one of those who was in the affray when I was taken,) swore in 
court that he snapped a pistol at me before I shot, and a concurrence 
of corroborating circumstances, amounted to strong presumptive ev¬ 
idence, that it could not possibly be my gun that killed Johnson, the 
jury, without hesitation, brought in their verdict, not guilty. One 
of the judges then declared, that not one of this jury should ever 
hold any office above a constable. Notwithstanding this proud, ill- 
natured declaration, some of these jurymen afterwards filled hon¬ 
ourable places, and I myself was elected the next year, and sate on 


72 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


the board* in Bedford county, and afterwards I served in the board 
three years in Westmoreland county. 

In the year 1774, another Indian war commenced, though at this 
time the white people were the aggressors. The prospect of this 
terrified the frontier inhabitants, insomuch that the greater part on 
the Ohio waters, either fled over the mountains eastward, or collect¬ 
ed into forts. As the state of Pennsylvania apprehended great dan¬ 
ger, they at this time appointed me captain over what was then call¬ 
ed the Pennsylvania line. As they knew I could raise men that 
would answer their purpose, they seemed to lay aside their former 
inveteracy. 

In the year 1776, I was appointed a major in the Pennsylvania 
association. When American independence was declared, I was 
elected a member of the convention in Westmoreland county, state 
of Pennsylvania, and of the assembly as long as I proposed to serve. 

While I attended the assembly in Philadelphia, in the year 1777, 
I saw in the street, some of my old boys, on their way to the Jer¬ 
seys, against the British, and they desired me to go with them.—I 
petitioned the house for leave of absence, in order to head a scouting 
party, which was granted me. We marched into the Jerseys, and 
went before General Washington’s army, waylaid the road at Rocky 
Hill, attacked about two hundred of the British, and with thirty-six 
men drove them out of the woods, into a large open field. After 
this, we attacked a party that were guarding the officers’ baggage, 
and took the wagon and twenty-two Hessians ; and also retook some 
of our continental soldiers, which they had with them. In a few 
days we killed and took more of the British, than was of our party. 
At this time I took the camp fever, and was carried in a stage wagon 
to Burlington, where I lay until I recovered. When I took sick, 
my companion, Major James M’Common, took the command of the 
party, and had greater success than I had. If every officer and his 
party, that lifted arms against the English, had fought with the same 
success that Major M’Common did, we would have made short work 
of the British war. 

When I returned to Philadelphia, I applied to the assembly for 
leave to raise a battalion of riflemen, which they appeared very wil¬ 
ling to grant, but said they could not do it, as the power of raising 
men and commissioning officers, were at that time committed to 
General Washington ; therefore they advised me to apply to his ex¬ 
cellency. The following is a true copy of a letter of recommenda¬ 
tion which I received at this time, from the council of safety: 

“IN COUNCIL OF SAFETY, 

“ Philadelphia , February 1 OfA, 1777. 

Sir, —Application has been made to us by James Smith, Esq., of Westmore¬ 
land, a gentleman well acquainted with the Indian customs, and their manner of 
carrying on war, for leave to raise a battalion of marksmen, expert in the use of 

* A board of commissioners was annually elected in Pennsylvania, to regulate 
taxes, and lay the county levy. 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


73 


rifles, and such as are acquainted with the Indian method of fighting, to be dres¬ 
sed entirely in their fashion, for the purpose of annoying and harassing the ene¬ 
my in their marches and encampments. We think two or three hundred men in 
that way, might be very useful. Should your excellency be of the same opinion, 
and direct such a corps to be formed, we will lake proper measures for raising 
the men on the frontiers of this State, and follow such other directions as your 
excellency shall give in this matter. 

“ To his excellency , General Washington 


“The foregoing is a copy of a letter to his excellency, General Washington, 
from the council of safety. 


“ Jacob S. Howell, Secretary .” 


After this, I received another letter of recommendation, which is 
as follows:— 


“We, whose names are underwritten, do certify that James Smith, (now of the 
county of Westmoreland,) was taken prisoner by the Indians, in an expedition 
before General Braddock’s defeat, in the year 1755, and remained with them un¬ 
til the year 1760; and also that he served as ensign, in the year 1763, under the 
pay of the province of Pennsylvania, and as lieutenant, in the year 1764, and as 
captain, in the year 1774; and as a military officer, he has sustained a good 
character :—and we do recommend him as a person well acquainted with the In¬ 
dian’s method of fighting, and, in our humble opinion, exceedingly fit for the 
command of a ranging or scouting party, which, we are also humbly of opinion, 
he could, (if legally authorized,) soon raise. Given under our hands at Philadel¬ 
phia, this 13th day of March, 1777. 

Thomas Paxton, Capt. 

William Duffield, Esq. 

David Robb, Esq. 

John Pipfr, Col. 

William M’Comb, 

William Pepper, Lt. Col. 

James M’Clane, Esq. 

John Proctor, Col. 

With these, and some other letters of recommendation, which I 
have not now in my possession, I went to his excellency, who lay 
at Morristown. Though General Washington did not fall in with 
the scheme of white men turning Indians, yet he proposed giving 
me a major’s place in a battalion of riflemen already raised. I thank¬ 
ed the general for his proposal, but I entertained no high opinion 
of the Colonel that I was to serve under, and with whom I had no 
prospect of getting my old boys again, I thought I would be of more 
use in the cause we were then struggling to support, to remain with 
them as a militia officer; therefore I did not accept this offer. 

In the year 1778, I received a colonel’s commission, and after my 
return to Westmoreland, the Indians made an attack upon our fron¬ 
tiers. I then raised men and pursued them, and the second day we 
overtook and defeated them. We likewise took four scalps, and re¬ 
covered the horses and plunder which they were carrying off. At 
the time of this attack, Captain John Hinkston pursued an Indian, 
both their guns being empty, and after the fray was over, he was 
missing:—while we were inquiring about him, he came walking 
7 


Jonathan Hoge, Esq. 
William Parker, Capt. 
Robert Elliot, 

Joseph Armstrong, Col. 
Robert Peebles, Lt. Col. 
Samuel Patton, Capt. 
William Lyon, Esq." 


74 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


up, seemingly unconcerned, with a bloody scalp in his hand—he 
had pursued the Indian about a quarter of a mile, and tomahawked 
him. 

Not long after this, I was called upon to command four hundred 
riflemen, on an expedition against the Indian town on French Creek. 
It was sometime in November, before I received orders from Gene¬ 
ral M’Intosh, to march, and then we were poorly equipped, and 
scarce of provision. We marched in three columns, forty rod from 
each other. There were also flankers on the outside of each col¬ 
umn, that marched abreast in the rear, in scattered order—and even 
in the columns, the men were one rod apart; and in the front, the 
volunteers marched abreast in the same manner of the flankers, 
scouring the woods. In case of an attack, the officers were imme¬ 
diately to order the men to face out and take trees—in this position, 
the Indians could not avail themselves by surrounding us, or have 
an opportunity of shooting a man from either side of the tree. If 
attacked, the centre column was to reinforce whatever part appeared 
to require it most. When we encamped, our encampment formed 
a hollow square, including about thirty or forty acres—on the out¬ 
side of the square, there were sentinels placed, whose business it 
was to watch for the enemy, and see that neither horses nor bullocks 
went out:—and when encamped, if any attacks were made by an 
enemy, each officer was immediately to order the men to face out 
and take trees, as before mentioned ; and in this form, they could 
not take the advantage by surrounding us, as they commonly had 
done when they fought the whites. 

The following is a copy of general orders, given at this time, 
which I have found among my journals :— 

“AT CAMP—OPPOSITE FORT PITT, 

“ November 29th, 1778. 

“ GENERAL ORDERS: 

** A copy thereof is to he given to each Captain and Subaltern , and to be read 

to each company. 

“You are to march in three columns, with flankers on the front and rear, and 
to keep a profound silence, and not to fire a gun, except at the enemy, without 
particular orders for that purpose; and in case of an attack, let it be so ordered 
that every other man only, is to shoot at once, excepting on extraordinary occa¬ 
sions. The one half of the men to keep a reserve fire, until their comrades load ; 
and let every one be particularly careful not to fire at any time, without a view 
of the enemy, and that not at too great a distance. I earnestly urge the above 
caution, as I have known very remarkable and grievous errors of this kind.— 
You are to encamp on the hollow square, except the volunteers, who, according 
to their own request, are to encamp on the front of the square. A sufficient 
number of sentinels are to be kept round the square at a proper distance. Every 
man is to be under arms at the break of day, and to parado opposite to their 
fire-places, facing out, and when the officers examine their arms, and find them in 
good order, and give necessary directions, they are to be dismissed, with orders 
to have their arms near them, and be always in readiness. 

“Given by 


“James Smith, Colonel 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


78 


In this manner, we proceeded on to French Creek, where we 
found the Indian town evacuated. I then went on further than my 
orders called for, in quest of Indians : but our provision being near¬ 
ly exhausted, we were obliged to return. On our way back, we 
met with considerable difficulties, on account of high waters, and 
scarcity of provision ; yet we never lost one horse, excepting some 
that gave out. 

After peace was made with the Indians, I met with some of them 
in Pittsburg, and inquired of them in their own tongue concerning 
this expedition,—not letting them know I was there. They told 
me that they watched the movements of this army ever after they 
had left Fort Pitt, and as they passed through the glades or barrens, 
they had a full view of them from the adjacent hills, and computed 
their number to be about one thousand. They said they also exa¬ 
mined their camps, both before and after they were gone, and found 
they could not make an advantageous attack, and therefore moved 
off from their town and hunting ground before we arrived. 

In the year 1788, I settled in Bourbon county, Kentucky, seven 
miles above Paris, and in the same year was elected a member of 
the convention, that sat at Danville, to confer about a separation 
from the State of Virginia,—and from that year until the year 1799, 
I represented Bourbon county, either in convention or as a member 
of the general assembly, except two years that I was left a few votes 
behind. 


— — 

ON THE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE INDIANS. 

The Indians are a slovenly people in their dress. They seldom 
ever wash their shirts, and in regard to cookery they are exceeding¬ 
ly filthy. When they kill a buffalo they will sometimes lash the 
paunch of it round a sapling, and cast it into the kettle, boil it, and 
sup the broth; though they commonly shake it about in cold water, 
then boil and eat it. Notwithstanding all this, they are very polite 
in their own way, and they retain among them the essentials of good 
manners; though they have but few compliments, yet they are 
complaisant to one another, and when accompanied with good hu¬ 
mour and discretion, they entertain strangers in the best manner 
their circumstances will admit. They use hut few titles of honour. 
In the military line the titles of great men are only captains or lead¬ 
ers of parties. In the civil line, the titles are only counsellors, 
chiefs, or the old wise men. These titles are never made use of in 
addressing any of their great men. The language commonly made 
use of in addressing them is, grandfather, father, or uncle. They 
have no such thing in use among them as Sir, Mr., Madam, or Mis¬ 
tress. The common mode of address is, my friend, brother, cousin, 
or mother, sister, &c. They pay great respect to age, or to the 
aged fathers and mothers among them of every rank. No one can 


76 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


arrive at any place of honour among them but by merit. Either 
some exploit in war must be performed before any one can be ad¬ 
vanced in the military line, or become eminent for wisdom before 
they can obtain a seat in council. It would appear to the Indians a 
most ridiculous thing to see a man lead on a company of warriors, 
as an officer, who had himself never been in a battle in his life; 
even in case of merit, they are slow in advancing any one, until 
they arrive at or near middle age. 

They invite every one that comes to their house or camp to eat, 
while they have any thing to give ; and it is accounted bad manners 
to refuse eating when invited. They are very tenacious of their old 
mode of dressing and painting, and do not change their fashions as 
we do. They are very fond of tobacco, and the men almost all 
smoke it, mixed with sumach leaves or red willow bark, pulverised, 
though they seldom use it in any other way. They make use of 
the pipe also as a token of love and friendship. 

In courtship they also differ from us. It is a common thing 
among them, for a young woman, if in love, to make suit to a young 
man; though the first address may be by the man, yet the other is 
the most common. The squaws are generally very immodest in 
their words and actions, and will often put the young men to the 
blush. The men commonly appear to be possessed of much more 
modesty than the women; yet I have been acquainted with some 
young squaws that appeared really modest: genuine it must be, as 
they were under very little restraint in the channel of education or 
custom. 

When the Indians meet one another, instead of saying, how do 
you do, they commonly salute in the following manner: you are 
my friend—the reply is, truly friend, I am your friend ; or, cousin, 
you yet exist—the reply is, certainly I do. They have their chil¬ 
dren under tolerable command; seldom ever whip them, and their 
common mode of chastising is, by ducking them in cold water ; 
therefore their children are more obedient in the winter season than 
they are in the summer, though they are then not so often ducked. 
They are a peaceable people, and scarcely ever wrangle or scold, 
when sober; but they are very much addicted to drinking, and men 
and women will become basely intoxicated, if they can by any 
means procure or obtain spirituous liquor, and then they are com¬ 
monly either extremely merry and kind, or very turbulent, ill hu¬ 
moured and disorderly. 

ON THEIR TRADITIONS AND RELIGIOUS SENTIMENTS. 

As the family that I was adopted into was intermarried with the 
Wyandots and Ottawas, three tongues were commonly spoken, viz: 
Caughnewaga, or what the French call Iroque, also the Wyandot 
and Ottawa; by this means I had an apportunity of learning these 
three tongues; and I found that these nations varied in their tradi¬ 
tions and opinions concerning religion; and even numbers of the 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


77 


same nations differed widely in their religious sentiments. Their 
traditions are vague, whimsical, romantic, and many of them scarce 
worth relating, and not any of them reach back to the creation of 
the world. The VVyandots coine the nearest to this. They tell of 
a squaw that was found when an infant, in the water, in a canoe 
made of bulrushes : this squaw became a great prophetess, and did 
many wonderful things; she turned water into dry land, and at 
length made this continent, which was at that time only a very small 
island, and but a few Indians on it. Though they were then but 
few, they had not sufficient room to hunt; therefore this squaw went 
to the water side, and prayed that this little island might be enlarged. 
The Great Being then heard her prayer, and sent great numbers of 
water tortoises, and muskrats, which brought with them mud and 
other materials for enlarging this island, and by this means, they 
say, it was increased to the size that it now remains ; therefore, they 
say, that the white people ought not to encroach upon them, or take 
their land from them, because their great grandmother made it.— 
They say, that about this time the angels, or heavenly inhabitants, 
as they call them, frequently visited them and talked with their fore¬ 
fathers, and gave directions how to pray, and how to appease the 
Great Being when he was offended. They told them they were to 
offer sacrifice, burn tobacco, buffalo and deer bones; but they were 
not to burn bears or racoon’s bones in sacrifice. 

The Ottawas say, that there are two Great Beings that govern 
and rule the universe, who are at war with each other; the one they 
call Maneto , and the other Matchemaneto. They say that Maneto 
is all kindness and love, and that Matchemaneto is an evil spirit that 
delights in doing mischief; and some of them think that they are 
equal in power, and therefore worship the evil spirit out of a prin- 
ciple of fear. Others doubt which of the two may be the most 
powerful, and therefore endeavour to keep in favour with both, by 
giving each of them some kind of worship. Others say, that Ma¬ 
neto is the first great cause, and therefore must be all powerful and 
supreme, and ought to be adored and worshipped, whereas Matche¬ 
maneto ought to be rejected and despised. 

Those of the Ottawas that worship the evil spirit, pretend to be 
great conjurors. I think if there is any such thing now in the world 
as witchcraft, it is among these people. I have been told wonderful 
stories concerning their proceedings, but never was eye witness to 
any thing that appeared evidently supernatural. 

Some of the Wyandots and Caughnewagas profess to be Roman 
Catholics ; but even these retain many of the notions of their ances¬ 
tors. Those of them who reject the Roman Catholic religion, hold 
that there is one great first cause, whom they call Owaneeyo , that 
rules and governs the universe, and takes care of all his creatures, 
rational and irrational, and gives them their food in due season, and 
hears the prayers of all those that call upon him; therefore it is but 
just and reasonable to pray, and offer sacrifice to this Great Being, 
and to do those things that are pleasing in his sight;—but they difc- 
7* 


78 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


fer widely in what is pleasing or displeasing to this Great Being. 
Some hold that following nature or their own propensities is the 
way to happiness, and cannot be displeasing to the Deity, because 
he delights in the happiness of his creatures, and does nothing in 
vain, but gave these dispositions with a design to lead to happiness, 
and therefore they ought to be followed. Others reject this opinion 
altogether, and say, that following their own propensities in this 
manner, is neither the means of happiness nor the way to please 
the Deity. 

Tecaughretanego was of opinion, that following nature in a lim¬ 
ited sense was reasonable and right. He said, that most of the ir¬ 
rational animals, by following their natural propensities, were led to 
the greatest pitch of happiness that their natures and the world they 
lived in would admit of. He said, that mankind and the rattlesnakes 
had evil dispositions, that led them to injure themselves and others. 
He gave instances of this. He said he had a puppy that he did not 
intend to raise, and in order to try an experiment, he tied this pup¬ 
py on a pole, and held it to a rattlesnake, which bit it several times ; 
that he observed the snake shortly after, rolling about apparently in 
great misery, so that it appeard to have poisoned itself as well as 
the puppy. The other instance he gave was concerning himself. 
He said, that when he was a young man, he was very fond of the 
women, and at length got the venereal disease, so that by following 
this propensity, he was led to injure himself and others. He said, 
our happiness depends on our using our reason, in order to suppress 
these evil dispositions ; but when our propensities neither lead us to 
injure ourselves nor others, we might with safety indulge them, or 
even pursue them as the means of happiness. 

The Indians generally, are of opinion that there are a great num¬ 
ber of inferior deities, which they call Carreyagaroona, which sig¬ 
nifies the heavenly inhabitants. These beings they suppose are 
employed as assistants, in managing the affairs of the universe, and 
in inspecting the actions of men ; and that even the irrational ani¬ 
mals are engaged in viewing their actions, and bearing intelligence 
to the gods. The eagle, for this purpose, with her keen eye, is 
soaring about in the day, and the owl, with her nightly eye, perched 
on the trees around their camp in the night; therefore, when they 
observe the eagle or the owl near, they immediately offer sacrifice, 
or burn tobacco, that they may have a good report to carry to the 
gods. They say that there are also great numbers of evil spirits, 
which they call Onasahroona, which signifies the inhabitants of the 
lower regions. These, they say, are employed in disturbing the 
world, and the good spirits are always going after them, and setting 
things to right, so that they are constantly working in opposition to 
each other. Some talk of a future state, but not with any certainty: 
at best their notions are vague and unsettled. Others deny a future 
state altogether, and say, that after death, they neither think nor 
live. 

As the Caughnewagas and the Six Nations speak nearly the same 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


79 


language, their theology is also nearly alike. When I met with the 
Shawnees, or Delawares, as 1 could not speak their tongue, I spoke 
Ottawa to them, and as it bore some resemblance to their language, 
we understood each other in some common affairs ; but as 1 could 
only converse with them very imperfectly, 1 cannot from my own 
knowledge, with certainty, give any account of ther theological 
opinions. 

ON THEIR POLICE, OR CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 

I have often heard of Indian kings, but never saw any. How any 
term used by the Indians, in their own tongue, for the chief man of 
a nation, could be rendered king, I know not. The chief of a na¬ 
tion is neither a supreme ruler, monarch or potentate.—He can nei¬ 
ther make war or peace, leagues or treaties.—He cannot impress 
soldiers, or dispose of magazines.—He cannot adjourn, prorogue or 
dissolve a general assembly, nor can he refuse his assent to their 
conclusions, or in any manner control them.—With them there is 
no such thing as hereditary succession, title or nobility, or royal 
blood, even talked of. The chief of a nation, even with the consent 
of his assembly, or council, cannot raise one shilling of tax off the 
citizens, but only receive what they please to give as free and volun¬ 
tary donations.—The chief of a nation has to hunt for his living, as 
any other citizen. How then can they, with any propriety, be call¬ 
ed kings ? I apprehend that the white people were formerly so fond 
of the name of kings, and so ignorant of their power, that they con¬ 
cluded the chief man of a nation must be a king. 

As they are illiterate, they consequently have no written code of 
laws. What they execute as laws, are their old customs, or the 
immediate result of new councils. Some of their ancient laws or 
customs are very pernicious, and disturb the public weal. Their 
vague law of marriage is a glaring instance of this, as the man and 
his wife are under no legal obligation to live together, if they arc 
both willing to part. They have little form, or ceremony among 
them in matrimony, but do like the Israelites of old—the man goes 
in unto the woman, and she becomes his wife. The years of pu¬ 
berty, and the age of consent, is about fourteen for the women, and 
eighteen for the men. Before I was taken by the Indians, I had of¬ 
ten heard that in the ceremony of marriage, the man gave the woman 
a deer’s leg, and she gave him a red ear of corn, signifying that she 
was to keep him in bread, and he was to keep her in meat. I in¬ 
quired of them concerning the truth of this, and they said they 
knew nothing of it, further than that they had heard it was the an¬ 
cient custom among some nations. Their frequent changing of 
partners prevents propagation, creates disturbances, and often occa¬ 
sions murder and bloodshed ; though this is commonly committed 
under the pretence of being drunk. Their impunity to crimes com¬ 
mitted when intoxicated with spirituous liquors, or their admitting 
one crime as an excuse for another, is a very unjust law or custom. 

The extremes they run into in dividing the necessaries of life, 


so 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


are hurtful to the public weal ; though their dividing meat when 
hunting, may answer a valuable purpose, as one family may have 
success one day, and the other the next; but their carrying this 
custom to the town, or to agriculture, is striking at the root of in¬ 
dustry ; as industrious persons ought to be rewarded, and the lazy 
suffer for their indolence. 

They have scarcely any penal laws ; the principal punishment is 
degrading: even murder is not punished by any formal laiv, only 
the friends of the murdered are at liberty to slay the murderer, if 
some atonement is not made. Their not annexing penalties to their 
laws, is perhaps not as great a crime, or as unjust and cruel, as the 
bloody laws of England, which we have so long shamefully prac¬ 
tised, and which are to be in force in this State, until our penitentia¬ 
ry house is finished, which is now building, and then they are to be 
repealed. 

Let us also take a view of the advantages attending Indian police: 
—-they are not oppressed or perplexed with expensive litigation.— 
They are not injured by legal robbery.—They have no splendid 
villains that make themselves grand and great upon other people’s 
labour.—They have neither church nor state erected as money-ma¬ 
king machines. 

ON TIIEIR DISCIPLINE AND METHOD OF WAR. 

1 have often heard the British officers call the Indians the undis¬ 
ciplined savages, which is a capital mistake—as they have all the 
essentials of discipline. They are under good command, and punc¬ 
tual in obeying orders : they can act in concert, and when their of¬ 
ficers lay a plan and give orders, they will cheerfully unite in putting 
all their directions into immediate execution ; and by each man ob¬ 
serving the motion or movement of his right hand companion, they 
can communicate the motion from right to left, and march abreast in 
concert, and in scattered order, though the line may be more than a 
mile long, and continue, if occasion requires, for a considerable dis¬ 
tance, without disorder or confusion. They can perform various 
necessary manceuvies, either slowly, or as fast as they can run: 
they can form a circle, or semi-circle: the circle they make use of 
in order to surround their enemy, and the semi-circle, if the enemy 
has a river on one side of them. They can also form a large hol¬ 
low square, face out and take trees: this they do, if their enemies 
are about surrounding them, to prevent being shot from either side 
of the tree. 

When they go into battle, they are not loaded or encumbered with 
many clothes, as they commonly fight naked, save only breech-clout, 
leggins and moccasins. There is no such thing as corporal punish¬ 
ment used, in order to bring them under such good discipline : de¬ 
grading is the only chastisement, and they are so unanimous in this, 
that it effectually answers the purpose. Their officers plan, order 
and conduct matters until they are brought into action, and then 
each man is to fight as though he was to gain the battle himself. 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


81 


General orders are commonly given in time of battle, either to ad¬ 
vance or retreat, and is done by a shout or yell, which is well under¬ 
stood, and then they retreat or advance in concert. They are gen¬ 
erally well equipped, and exceedingly expert and active in the use 
of arms. Could it be supposed that undisciplined troops could 
defeat Generals Braddock, Grant, &c.? It may be said by some, 
that the French were also engaged in this war : true, they were; 
yet I know it was the Indians that laid the plan, and with small 
assistance put it into execution. The Indians had no aid from the 
French, or any other power, when they besieged Fort Pitt, in the 
year 1763, and cut off the communication for a considerable time, 
between that post and Fort Loudon, and would have defeated Gen. 
Bouquet’s army, (who were on the way to raise the siege,) had it 
not been for the assistance of the Virginia volunteers. They had no 
British troops with them when they defeated Colonel Crawford, near 
the Sandusky, in the time of the American war with Great Britain ; 
or when they defeated Colonel Loughrie, on the Ohio, near the 
Miami, on his way to meet General Clarke ; this was also in the 
time of the British war. It was the Indians alone that defeated 
Colonel Todd, in Kentucky, near the Blue Licks, in the year 1782 ; 
and Colonel Harmer, betwixt the Ohio and Lake Erie, in the year 
1790, and General St. Clair, in the year 1791 ; and it is said that 
there were more of our men killed at this defeat, than there were in 
any one battle during our contest with Great Britain. They had no 
aid, when they fought even the Virginia riflemen almost a whole 
day, at the Great Kenhawa, in the year 1774 ; and when they found 
they could not prevail against the Virginians, they made a most art¬ 
ful retreat. Notwithstanding they had the Ohio to cross, some con¬ 
tinued firing, whilst others were crossing the river ; in this manner 
they proceeded, until they all got over, before the Virginians knew 
that they had retreated ; and in this retreat, they carried oft’ all their 
wounded. In the most of the foregoing defeats, they fought with 
an inferior number, though in this, I believe, it was not the case. 

Nothing can be more unjustly represented, than the different ac¬ 
counts we have had of their number from time to time, both by their 
own computations and that of the British. While I was among 
them, I saw the account of the number that they in those parts gave 
to the French, and kept it by me. When they, in their own coun¬ 
cil-house, were taking an account of their number, with a piece of 
bark newly stripped, and a small stick, which answered the end of 
a slate and a pencil, I took an account of the different nations and 
tribes, which I added together, and found there were not half the 
number, which they had given the French ; and though they were 
then their allies, and lived among them, it was not easy finding out 
the deception, as they were a wandering set, and some of them 
almost always in the woods hunting. I asked one of the chiefs 
what was their reason for making such different returns? He said 
it was for political reasons, in order to obtain greater presents from 
the French, by telling them they could not divide such and such 
quantities of goods among so many. 


82 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


In the year of General Bouquet’s last campaign, 1764, I saw the 
official return made by the British officers, of the number of Indians 
that were in arms against us that year, which amounted to thirty 
thousand. As I was then a lieutenant in the British service, 1 told 
them I was of opinion that there was not above one thousand in 
arms against us, as they were divided by Broadstreet’s army, being 
then at Lake Erie. The British officers hooted at me, and said they 
could not make England sensible of the difficulties they laboured 
under in fighting them, as England expected that their troops could 
fight the undisciplined savages in America, five to one, as they did 
the East Indians, and therefore my report would not answer their 
purpose, as they could not give an honorable account of the war, but 
by augmenting their number. 1 am ol opinion that from Braddock’s 
war, until the present time, there never were more than three thou¬ 
sand Indians, at any time in arms against us, west of Fort Pitt, and 
frequently not half that number. According to the Indians’ own 
accounts, during the whole of Braddock’s war, or from 1755, till 
1758, they killed or took fifty of our people, for one that they lost. 
In the war that commenced in the year 1763, they killed compara¬ 
tively few of our people, and lost more of theirs, as the frontiers, 
(especially the Virginians,) had learned something of their method 
of war : yet, they in this war, according to their own accounts, 
(which I believe to be true,) killed or took ten of our people, for one 
they lost. 

Let us now take a view of the blood and treasure that was spent 
in opposing, comparatively, a few Indian warriors, with only some 
assistance from the French, the first four years of the war. Addi¬ 
tional to the amazing destruction and slaughter that the frontiers 
•sustained, from James river to Susquehanna, and about thirty miles 
broad ; the following campaigns were also carried on against the 
Indians :—General Braddock’s, in the year 1755 ; Colonel Arm¬ 
strong’s, against the Cattanyan town, on the Allegheny, 1757; 
General Forbes’s, in 1758; General Stanwick’s, in 1759; General 
Monkton’s, in 1760 ; Colonel Bouquet’s in 1761, and 1763, when 
he fought the battle of Brushy Run, and lost above one hundred men, 
but, by the assistance of the Virginia volunteers, drove the Indians ; 
Colonel Armstrong’s, up the west branch of Susquehanna, in 1763 ; 
General Broadstreet’s up Lake Erie, in 1764 ; General Bouquet’s, 
against the Indians at Muskingum, 1764; Lord Dunmore’s, in 
1774; General M’lntosh’s, in 1778 ; Colonel Crawford’s, shortly 
after his ; General Clarke’s, in 1778-1780; Colonel Bowman’s, in 
1779; General Clarke’s, in 1782—against the Wabash, in 1786 ; 
General Logan’s, against the Shawanees, in 1786 ; General Wilkin¬ 
son’s, in-; Colonel Harmer’s, in 1790 ; and General St. Clair’s, 

in 1791 ; which, in all, are twenty-two campaigns, besides smaller 
expeditions—such as the French Creek expedition, Colonels Ed¬ 
wards’s, Loughrie’s, &c. All these were exclusive of the number 
of men that were internally employed as scouting parties, and in 
erecting forts, guarding stations, &c. When we take the foregoing 



COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


83 


occurrences into consideration, may we not reasonably conclude, 
that they are the best disciplined troops in the known world.? Is it 
not the best discipline that has the greatest tendency to annoy the 
enemy and save their own men ? 1 apprehend that the Indian dis¬ 

cipline is as well calculated to answer the purpose in the woods of 
America, as the British discipline in Flanders : and British discip¬ 
line in the woods, is the way to have men slaughtered, with scarcely 
any chance of defending themselves. 

Let us take a view of the benefits we have received, by what little 
we have learned of their art of war, which cost us dear, and the loss 
we have sustained for want of it, and then see if it will not be well 
worth our while to retain what we have, and also to endeavour to 
improve in this necessary branch of business. Though we have 
made considerable proficiency in this line, and in some respects 
outdo them, viz. as marksmen, and in cutting our rifles, and keeping 
them in good order; yet, I apprehend, we are far behind in their 
manoeuvres, or in being able to surprise. May we not conclude, 
that the progress we had made in their art of war, contributed con¬ 
siderably towards our success, in various respects, when contending 
with Great Britain for liberty ? Had the British king attempted to 
enslave us before Braddoek’s war, in all probability he might readily ^ 
have done it, because, except the New Englanders, who had for¬ 
merly been engaged in war with the Indians, we were unacquainted 
with any kind of war ; but after fighting such a subtle and barbarous 
enemy as the Indians, we were not terrified at the approach of Brit¬ 
ish red-coats. Was not Burgoyne’s defeat accomplished, in some 
measure, by the Indian mode of fighting ? And did not General 
Morgan’s teflemeu, and many others, fight with greaier success, in 
consequence of what they had learned of their art of war ? Ken¬ 
tucky would not have been settled at the time it was, had the Virgi¬ 
nians been altogether ignorant of this method of war. 

In Braddock’s war the frontiers were laid waste for above three 
hundred miles long, and generally about thirty broad, excepting some 
that were living in forts, and many hundreds, or perhaps thousands, 
killed or made captives, and horses, and all kinds of property carried 
off: but, in the next Indian war, though we had the same Indians 
to cope with, the frontiers almost all stood their ground, because 
they were by this time, in some measure, acquainted with their ma¬ 
noeuvres ; and the want of this in the first w T ar, was the cause of the 
loss of many hundreds of our citizens, and much treasure. 

Though largS volumes have been written on morality, yet it may 
be all summed up in saying, do as you would wish to be done by : 
so the Indians sum up the art of war in the following manner : 

The business of the private warriors is to be under command, or 
punctually to obey orders; to learn to march abreast in scattered 
order, so as to be in readiness to surround the enemy, or to prevent 
being surrounded ; to be good marksmen, and active in the use of 
arms ; to practise running; to learn to endure hunger and hardships 
with patience and fortitude ; to tell the truth at all times to their 
officers, but more especially when seut ouft to spy the enemy. 


84 


LIFE AND TRAVELS OF 


Concerning Officers. —They say that it would be absurd to ap¬ 
point a man an officer whose skill and courage had never been tried—• 
that all officers should be advanced only according to merit; that no 
one man should have the absolute command of an army; that a 
council of officers are to determine when, and how an attack is to 
be made ; that it is the business of the officers to lay plans to take 
every advantage of the enemy ; to ambush and surprise them, and to 
prevent being ambushed and surprised themselves. It is the duty 
of officers to prepare and deliver speeches to the men, in order to 
animate and encourage them ; and on the march, to prevent the men, 
at any time, from getting into a huddle, because if the enemy should 
surround them in this position, they would be exposed to the ene¬ 
my’s fire. It is likewise their business at all times to endeavour to 
annoy their enemy, and save their own men, and therefore ought 
never to bring on an attack without considerable advantage, or with¬ 
out what appeared to them the sure prospect of victory, and that 
with the loss of few men ; and if at any time they should be mista¬ 
ken in this, and are like to lose many men by gaining the victory, it 
is their duty to retreat, and wait for a better opportunity of defeating 
their enemy, without the danger of losing so many men. Their 
conduct proves that they act upon these principles ; therefore it is, 
that from Braddock’s war to the present time, they have seldom 
ever made an unsuccessful attack. The battle at the mouth of the 
Great Kenhawa is the greatest instance of this ; and even then, 
though the Indians killed about three for one they lost, yet they 
retreated. The loss of the Virginians in this action was seventy 
killed, and the same number wounded : The Indians lost twenty 
killed on the field, and eight, who died afterwards of their wounds. 
This was the greatest loss of men that I ever knew the Indians to 
sustain in any one battle. They will commonly retreat if their men 
are falling fast; they will not stand cutting like the Higlanders or 
other British troops ; but this proceeds from a compliance with their 
rules of war rather than cowardice. If they are surrounded they 
will fight while there is a man of them alive, rather than surrender. 
When Colonel John Armstrong surrounded the Cattanyan town, on 
the Allegheny river, Captain Jacobs, a Delaware chief, with some 
warriors, took possession of a house, defended themselves for some 
time, and killed a number of our men. As Jacobs could speak 
English, our people called on him to surrender. He said, that he 
and his men were warriors, and they would all fight while life 
remained. He was again told that they should be well used if they 
would only surrender ; and if not, the house should be burnt down 
over their heads. Jacobs replied, he could eat fire ; and when the 
house was in a flame, he, and they that were with him, came out in 
a fighting position, and were all killed. As they are a sharp, active 
kind of people, and war is their principal study, in this they have 
arrived at considerable perfection. We may Team of the Indians 
what is useful and laudable, and at the same time lay aside their 
barbarous proceedings. It is much to be lamented, that some of our 


COLONEL JAMES SMITH. 


85 


frontier riflemen are too prone to imitate them in their inhumanity. 
During the British war, a considerable number of men from below 
Fort Pitt, crossed the Ohio, and marched into a town of friendly 
Indians, chiefly Delawares, who professed the Moravian religion. 
As the Indians apprehended no danger, they neitner lifted arms nor 
fled. After these riflemen were some time in the town, and the 
Indians altogether in their power, in cool blood they massacred the 
whole town, without distinction of age or sex. This was an act of 
barbarity beyond any thing I ever knew to be committed by the 
savages themselves. 

Why have we not made greater proficiency in the Indian art of 
war ? Is it because we are too proud to imitate them, even though 
it should be a means of preserving the lives of many of our citizens ? 
No ! We are not above borrowing language from them, such as 
homony, pone, tomohawk, <fcc., which is of little or no use to us. 
I apprehend, that the reasons why we have not improved more in 
this respect are as follow ; no important acquisition is to be obtained 
but by attention and diligence ; and as it is easier to learn to move 
and act in concert, in close order, in the open plain, than to act in 
concert in scattered order in the woods, so it is easier to learn our 
discipline than the Indian manoeuvres. They train up their boys in 
the art of war from the time they are twelve or fourteen years of age; 
whereas, the principal chance our people had of learning was, by 
observing their manoeuvres when in action against us. I have 
been long astonished that no one has written upon this important 
subject, as their art of war would not only be of use to us in case of 
another rupture with them ; but were only part of our men taught 
this art, acccompanied with our continental discipline, I think no 
European power, after trial, would venture to show its head in the 
American woods. 


8 

















:• 


t 


t 











































A NARRATIVE 

OF THE CAPTIVITY OF 

JOHN M’CULLOUGH, ESQ. 


WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 

The following is an Abridgement of what the Narrator has suffered and seen, 
during upwards of eight years captivity with the Aborigenes of America. Hie 
design in this Essay is, to illustrate facts as they occurred, carefully avoiding to 
exaggerate any thing that has come under his observation ; neither is it his de¬ 
sign to .give a Geographical Account of the country he passed through, that 
having been done already by abler pens. 

His endeavour throughout the whole is to make it intelligible to the meanest 
capacity ; wherever he has deemed it necessary to retain Indian words, he has 
divided them into syllables, in order to give the reader an idea of the pronun¬ 
ciation. 

I was bom in Newcastle county, in the state of Delaware. When 
I was five years old, my father moved his family from thence to the 
back parts of then Cumberland (now Franklin) county, to a place 
well known by the name of Conococheague settlement, where he 
made a purchase of a tract of land at sheriff’s sale, about a year be¬ 
fore what has been generally termed Braddock’s war. Shortly after 
the commencement of the war, he moved his family into York county, 
where he remained until the spring of 1756, when we ventured 
home ; we had not been long at home until we were alarmed again, 
we then fled down to Antieatum settlement, where we remained 
until the beginning of harvest, then ventured home to secure our 
crops ; we stopped about three miles from home, where we got a 
small cabin to live in until my father went home and secured the 
grain. On the 26th day of July, 1756, my parents and my oldest 
sister went home to pull flax, accompanied by one John Allen, a 
neighbor, who had business at Fort Loudon, and promised to come 
that wav in the evening to accompany them back. Allen had pro¬ 
ceeded but about two miles toward Loudon until he heard the 
Indians had killed a man that morning, about a mile and a half from 
where my parents were at work ; he then, instead of going back to 
accompany them home agreeably to his promise, took a circuitous 
route of about six or seven miles, for fear of the Indians. When he 
came home, my brother and I were playing on the great road, a 
short distance from the house; he told us to go immediately to the 
house, or the Indians would catch us, adding, at the same time, that 
he supposed they had killed our father and mother by that time. 

We were small, I was about eight years old, my brother was but 
five; we went to the house, the people were all in a bustle, making 


88 


M'CULLOUGH’s NARRATIVE. 


ready to go to a fort about a mile off. I recollect of hearing them 
say, that somebody should go and give my parents notice ; none 
would venture to go ; my brother and I concluded that we would 
go ourselves, accordingly we laid off our trowsers and went off in 
our shirts unnoticed by any person, leaving a little sister about two 
years old sleeping in bed ; when we got in sight of the house we 
began to halloo and sing, rejoicing that we had got home ; when we 
came within about fifty or sixty yards of the house, all of a sudden 
the Indians came rushing out of a thicket upon us; they were six 
in number, to wit, five Indians and one Frenchman ; they divided 
into two parties ; three rushed across the path before, and three be¬ 
hind us. This part of the scene appears to me yet, more like a 
dream than any thing real: my brother screamed aloud the instant 
we saw them ; for my part, it appeared to me that the one party 
were Indians and the other white people : they stopped before us, I 
was making my way betwixt two of them, when one of the hind 
party pulled me back by my shirt; they instantly ran up a little hill 
to where they had left their baggage ; there they tied a pair of moc- 
casons on my feet; my brother at that instant broke off from them, 
running towards the house, screaming as he went; they brought 
him back, and started off as fast as I was able to run along with 
them, one of them carrying my brother on his back. We ran along 
side of the field where my parents were at work, they were only in¬ 
tercepted from our view by a small ridge in the field, that lay paral¬ 
lel to the course we were running ; when we had got about seventy 
or eighty perches from the field, we sat down in a thicket of bushes, 
where we heard our father calling us ; two of the Indians ran off 
towards the house, but happily missed him, as he had returned back 
to the field, supposing that we had gone back again. The other 
four started off with us as fast as I was able to travel along with 
them, jumping across every road we came to, one catching me by 
each arm and slinging me over the road to prevent our tracks from 
being discovered. 

We travelled all that day, observing still when we came to an 
eminence, one of them would climb up a tree, and point out the 
course they should take, in order, I suppose, to avoid being disco¬ 
vered. It came on rain towards evening, we travelled on till a good 
while after night; at last we took up our lodging under a large tree, 
they spread down a blanket for us to lie on, and laid another over 
us, an Indian laid down on each side of us on the edge of our cover, 
the rest laid down at our head and feet. At break of day we started 
again ; about sun-rise we heard a number of axes at a short distance 
from us, we also discovered where logs had been dragged on the 
ground the day before ; they immediately took the alarm and made 
off as quick as possible. Towards evening we stopped on the side 
of a mountain ; two of the Indians and the Frenchman, went down 
into the valley, leaving one to take care of us : they were not long 
gone till we heard them shooting, in a short time they came back, 
carrying a parcel of hogs on their backs, and a fowl they had killed ; 


M‘CULLOUGIl’s NARRATIVE. 


8 £ 


also a parcel of green apples in their bosoms ; they gave us some of 
the apples, which was the first nourishment we got from the time 
we were taken. We then went down the mountain into an obscure 
place, where they kindled a fire and singed ihe hair off the hogs and 
roasted them, the fowl they roasted for us ; we had not been long 
there till we heard the war halloo up the run from where we had 
our fire, the two Indians came to us, whom I mentioned had ran to¬ 
wards the house when they heard my father calling us ; they had a 
scalp with them, by the color of the hair 1 concluded it had been my 
father’s, but I was mistaken, it was the scalp of the man they killed 
the morning before they took us ; the scalp they made two of, and 
dried them at the fire. After roasting the meat and drying the 
scalps, we took to the mountain again, when we had got about half 
way up, we stopped and sat down on an old log—after a few minutes 
rest ihey rose up one after another and went to the sides of rocks 
and old logs and began to scrape away the leaves, where they 
drew out blankets, bells, a small kettle, and several other articles 
which they had hidden when they were coming down. We got 
over the mountain that evening, about sunset we crossed a large road 
in sight of a waste house, we went about a quarter of a mile further 
and encamped by the side of a large run ; one of them went about 
two or three hundred yards from the camp and shot a deer and 
brought it to the camp on his back. I had been meditating my 
escape from the time we crossed the road. Shortly after dark we 
laid down, I was placed next to the fire, my brother next, and an 
Indian laid down on the edge of the blanket behind us ; I awoke 
some time in the night, and roused my brother, whispering to him to 
rise, and we would go off, he told me that he could not go, I told 
him that I would go myself, he replied that he did not care. I got 
lip as softly as I could, but had not got more than three or four 
yards from the fi e till the Indian who lay at our backs raised his 
head and said, “ Where you go?” I told him I was going to p—s, 
he said, “ make haste , come sleep.” I went and laid down again. 

Next morning four of the Indians and the Frenchman went off on 
a scout, leaving one to take care of us. About the middle of the 
dav, they came running the way we came the evening before—they 
hallooed as soon as they came in sight; by the time they got to the 
camp, the one who took care of us had all their things thrown on 
their blankets; the one who took care of us took me on his back 
and ran as fast as he could, for about a quarter of a mile, then threw 
me down, broke a twig and switched me along until we got on the 
mountain again ; about an hour after, we began to gather whortle¬ 
berries, as they were very plenty on the mountains ; lucky indeed 
for us, for I verily believe we would have starved had it not been 
for the berries, for we could not eat the meat without bread or salt. 
We got off the mountain that evening, and encamped in a thicket; 
it rained that night and the next morning; they had made a shade 
of some of their spare blankets; we were long in starting the next 
morning. Whilst we were sitting about the fire, we heard the re- 

8 * 


90 


M‘CULLOUGIl’s NARRATIVE. 


port of two guns at a little distance directly the way we came the 
evening before ; they started up in an instant, and picked up their 
blankets and other articles : the one who carried me before took me 
on his back and ran as fast as he could, for about half a mile, then 
threw me down and whipped me along as they had done the day 
before. It must be observed that they always carried my brother 
time about; for my part it was the only two rides I got from the 
day I wes taken, till we got to Fort Duquesne (now Pittsburg.)— 
I must pass over many occurrences that happened on our way to 
Pittsburg, excepting one or two. The morning before we came to 
Kee-ak-kshee-rnan-nit-toos, which signifies Cut Spirit, an old town 
at the junction of Lct-el-han-neck , or Middle Creek, and Quin-nim- 
mough-koong , or Can-na-maugh, or Otter Creek, as the word 
signifies. The morning before we got there, they pulled all the hair 
out of our heads, except a small spot on the crown, which they left. 
We got to the town about the middle of the day, where we got some 
squashes to eat; the next morning we set out for Fort Duquesne— 
the morning after that we came to several Indian camps—they gave 
us some bread, which was the first we tasted from the time we were 
taken. About a mile or two before we came to the fort, we met an 
old Indian, whose dress made him appear very terrifying to us ; he 
had a brown coat on him, no shirt, his breast bare, a breech-clout, a 
pair of leggins and moccasons, his face and breast painted rudely 
with vermillion and verdigris, a large bunch of artificial hair, dyed 
of a crimson color, fixed on the top or crown of his head, a large 
triangle piece of silver hanging below his nose, that covered almost 
the whole of his upper lip ; his ears (which had been cut according 
to their peculiar custom) were stretched out with fine brass wire, 
made in the form (but much larger) of what is commonly fixed in 
suspenders, so that, perhaps, he appeared something like what you 
might apprehend to be a likeness of the devil. As he approached 
toward us, the rest said something to him,—he took hold of me by 
the arm, and lashed me about from side to side, at last he threw me 
from him as far as he was able, then he took hold of my brother, 
and served him the same way. Shortly after that, they stopped and 
painted us, tying or fixing a large bunch of hawk’s feathers on the 
top of each of our heads, then raised the war halloo, viz. one halloo 
for each scalp, and one for each prisoner, still repeating at certain 
intervals ; we met several Indians who came running out to meet 
us—we were taken to the middle of their encampment into one of 
their chiefs huts ; after they had given a narrative of their adventure, 
the old chief drew out a small bag from behind his bed and took out 
a large belt of wampum and fixed it round my neck ; we then started 
down to the fort, a great number of Indians of both sexes were para¬ 
ded on each side of the path to see us as we went along; some of 
them were shoving in little fellows to strike us, and others advising 
me to strike them, but we seemed to be both afraid of each other ; 
we were taken into a French house, where a number of Indians 
were sitting on the floor ; one of the chiefs took my brother by the 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


91 


hand and handed him to a Frenchman who was standing at a room 
door, which was the last sight I had of him : after that he took me 
by the hand, and made a speech for about half an hour, then handed 
me to an Indian who was sitting on the hearth smoking his pipe; he 
took me between his legs, (he could talk very good English,) and 
asked me several questions, telling me that I was his brother, that 
the people had killed a brother of his about a year before, and that 
these good men (meaning the warriors who took us) had gone and 
brought me to replace his deceased brother; he also told me that he 
had been raised amongst the white people, and that he had been 
taught to read when he was young, but that he had almost forgot it. 
I believe he was telling me the truth, for he knew all the letters and 
figures. He then took me by the hand and led me to the Jil-lee-ge - 
eon-ning or Allegheny river, which signifies an impression made by 
the foot of a human being, for said they, the land is so rich about it 
that a person cannot travel through the lands adjoining it without 
leaving the mark of their feet. We got in a conoe and went across 
the river, where a great number of Indians were encamped. He led 
me through their encampment; towards evening we came back. 
Shortly after our return two young fellows took me by the hand and 
led me to the river, we got into a canoe and paddled about thirty or 
forty yards from the shore, when they laid down their paddles and 
laid hold of me by the wrists, and plunged me over head and ears 
under the water, holding me down till I was almost smothered, then 
drew me up to get breath. This they repeated several times. I had 
no other thought, but that they were going to drown me. I was at 
every interval pleading with them not to drown me; at last one of 
them said, “ me no killirn , me washim .” I plead with them to let 
me into shallow water, and I would wash myself, accordingly they 
did—I then began to rub myself; they signified to me to dive ; I 
dipped my face into the water and raised it up as quick as I could; 
one of them stepped out of the canoe and laid hold of me on the 
back of my neck, and held me down to the bottom, till I was almost 
smothered, before he let me go. I then waded out; they put a new 
ruffled shirt on me, telling me that I was then an Indian, and that 
they would send me away to the rest of their friends. Accordingly 
I was sent off the next day with a female friend, to an uncle of my 
adopted brother’s, who lived at a town called She-nang-go , on Bea¬ 
ver creek. Nothing remarkable happened during our journey, ex¬ 
cepting several falls that I got off a young horse I was set on to ride. 
On the third or fourth night we arrived in She-nang-go , about an 
hour after dark : after the female friend whom I was sent with had 
informed the family who I was, they set up a lamentable cry, for 
some time: when their lamentation was over, they came to me one 
after another and shook me by the hand, in token that they consid¬ 
ered me to stand in the same relationship to them as the one in 
whose stead I was placed. The next morning I was presented to 
my uncle, with whom I lived about a year. He was blind of one 
eye—a very good naturcd man. In the beginning of winter lie used 


m‘cullough’s narravive. 


93 

to raise me up by day light every morning, and make me sit down 
in the creek up to my chin in the cold water, in order to make me 
hardy as he said, whilst he would sit on the bank smoking his pipe, 
until he thought I had been long enough in the water, he would then 
bid me to dive. After I came out of the water he would order me 
not to go near the fire until I would be dry. I was kept at that till 
the water was frozen over, he would then break the ice for me and 
send me in as before. Some time in the winter, perhaps not long 
before Christmas, I took very sick ; I lay all winter at the fire side, 
and an old squaw attended me, (what little attendance I got;) she 
used to go out in the snow and hunt up herbs by the old tops ; the 
roots of which she would boil and make a kind of drink for me. 
She would never suffer me to taste cold water, or any kind of flesh, 
or any thing that was sweet or salt. The only nourishment that I 
was suffered to take, was homony, or dumplings, made of coarse 
Indian meal boiled in water. As I said before, I lay all winter at 
the fire side ; I had nothing but a small blanket to cover me, part of 
which I drew under me for my bed, my legs drew up so that I was 
obliged to crawl when I had occasion to go out of doors. I remained 
in that situation till corn planting time, when I began to get better. 
They anointed my knees and hams with bear’s oil, and made me 
keep my knees stretched out as tight as 1 could bear them, by which 
means I got the use of my joints in about a month’s time. 

Shortly after I got able to run about, a dreadful accident happened 
in my hands, in the following manner: The most of the Indians of 
the town were either at their corn-fields or out a fishing—my uncle 
had been unwell for some time—he was below the town at the creek 
side, where he had an Indian doctor sweating him and conjuring 
out his disorder. He had a large pistol, which he had hung up by 
the guard at the head of his bed,—there were two brothers, relations 
of ours, the oldest was perhaps about my own age, the other about 
two years younger. The oldest boy took down the pistol and 
cocked it, threatening for diversion to shoot his brother: the little 
fellow ran off from us—I assisted him to let down the cock of the 
pistol, which he held in his left hand with the muzzle towards his 
body, and his right hand against the cock ; I would then (after cau¬ 
tioning him to turn the muzzle past his body) draw the trigger, and 
he would let down the cock slowly. I advised him several times to 
lay by the pistol, which he would do ; but as soon as his brother 
would come back to us, he would get it again. At last his brother 
got afraid and would not come near us any more. He then threa¬ 
tened to shoot me ; I fled out of the house from him. The town 
lay in a semi-circular form, round a bend of the creek ; there hap¬ 
pened to be a woman at the upper end of the town, (as we lived at 
the lower end,) that had observed me when I fled out of the house 
from him—he immediately called me back to assist him to let down 
the cock ; I refused to go, unless he would turn the butt of the pis¬ 
tol to me, which he did, I went in, in haste (and forgot to caution 
him to hold the muzzle to one side) and drew the trigger; the con- 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


93 


sequence was, the pistol went off and shot him in the stomach, the 
pistol flew out of our hands ; he laid his hands across his breast and 
ran out of the house, screaming aloud as he ran ; I ran out of the 
house and looked after him, he went towards their own door, (about 
forty or fifty yards off,) he quit screaming before he fell;—it was 
late in the evening ; his mother and grandmother were coming from 
their cornfield at that instant; his grandmother just cast her eye to¬ 
wards him, as she came past him, and came to me where I was 
standing ; before they got near me, I told her that Watook , (for that 
was his name,) had shot himself; she turned away from me without 
saying any thing. In a short time all the Indians in the town col¬ 
lected about me, examining me, and getting me to show them what 
way he took to shoot himself; I told them that he took the pistol 
in his left hand and held the muzzle to his stomach, whilst he push¬ 
ed the trigger from him with his thumb : I held to the one story. 
At last the woman (whom I mentioned had seen me when I fled out 
of the house from him) came and told them that she was standing 
out of doors looking at me across the bend of the creek, at the time 
she heard the report of the pistol, and that I was standing a con¬ 
siderable distance from the house at the time—at which they all 
dispersed. 

There was something very singular in this affair, as the same 
woman and her husbaud, about a year after the above accident, was 
the means of saving my life when I was apparently drowned, as I 
shall have occasion to mention hereafter. 

It happened to be the first funeral that I had seen amongst them, 
and not being acquainted with their customs, I was put to a terrible 
fright; shortly after dark they began to fire their guns, which they 
always do when any one dies. As all the family had gone to the 
wake, I was left by myself in the house ; when the firing began I 
concluded that they were about to take my life ; I therefore crept 
under a bed that was set upon forks drove into the ground, a con¬ 
siderable height off the floor, where I lay as close to the wall as I 
could get, till about break of day, when I was roused by the report 
of their guns again. I did not go near the corpse—however I heard 
them say, that lie bled none, as the coifing and the blaze of the pow¬ 
der had followed the ball into his body. There were several young 
squaws who had seen us running about with the pistol; they fre¬ 
quently charged me with being the cause of the boy’s death, which 
I always denied, but Queek-queek-co-mooch-que , a little white girl, 
(a prisoner,) who lived with the family that the deceased belonged 
to, was like to be the worst evidence against me,—she told them 
that she saw me have the pistol in my hands several times—but the 
woman’s evidence overruled the whole of them ; however their 
minds were not entirely divested of the thoughts that I had taken 
his life, as they often cast it up to me afterwards, that I had shot 
Watook ; especially when I would happen to get into a quarrel with 
any of the little fellows, they would tell me that I had killed one of 
them already, and that I wanted to kill another ; however I declare 
the thing was merely accidental. 


94 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


When I reflect on the above accident, and the circumstances at¬ 
tending it, my mind flows with gratitude to that Almighty Being 
whose wise providence directs the affairs of the world ; 1 do not 
say that a lie is justifiable in the sight of God, yet I am led to be¬ 
lieve that the woman was guided by providence in telling a manifest 
falsehood, which, perhaps, was the means of prolonging my days ; 
as I am led to believe, had the true circumstances of the case been 
known to them, I never should have seen the light of another day ; 
nor should I have expected that my body would have been laid 
under the ground, but that I would rather have been thrown into the 
creek, to be devoured by fish, or left above ground to be devoured 
by vermin, as I knew to be the case with two men, which I shall 
mention before I close this narrative. 

Sometime in the summer following, we went to a treaty with the 
French at Presquile. On our way there, we went by an Indian 
town at or near where Meadville now stands: just as we got to the 
town, we observed a number of Batteaux coming down French 
Creek ; the French came to the shore where they were ; one of 
them offered to purchase me from the Indians; he offered for me an 
old spade, wanting the handle, (which, perhaps, was the lowest 
value that ever was set upon me,) they laughed scornfully at him for 
his folly : however, they decamped immediately, for fear the French 
might come and steal me away by night. When we got to Pres¬ 
quile, I was given up to my Indian mother whom I had never seen 
before. After the treaty was over, my old uncle returned to She- 
nanggo, and left me with my old mother and two brothers some¬ 
thing older than myself; we had a step-father also, who hunted for 
us. We moved from Presquile near to fort Ze Beauf, where my 
mother had raised a small patch of corn ; we lived there till the fall, 
occasionaliy going to the fort, to draw rations, as the French con¬ 
stantly supplied the Indians with provisions whilst they lay about 
the fort. The French always observed to fire off a swivel, as a sa¬ 
lute, when the Indians came to the fort with prisoners or scalps. 

Towards fall my old brother (I call him old because he was the 
oldest of the family ; he was not more than twenty two or three) 
came to us, I had not seen him from the time I was given to him at 
fort Duquesne (or Pittsburgh) till then ; he came to take us to She- 
nanggo to live amongst the rest of our friends. W T e had but one 
horse to carry our provisions, our apparel we carried on our backs 
like the terrapin, so that we had to travel on foot. We were a 
long time on the way, as they frequently stopped three or four days 
at a place to hunt. We arrived at Shenanggo in the beginning of 
winter. Not long after our arrival, I took a severe turn of the pleu¬ 
risy, and lay very ill for about twenty days; my old mother and an 
old aunt paid great attention to me ; observing, with regard to my 
drink and diet, as my former attendant had done before. 

The next summer I had like to lose my life ; all the Indians of 
the town, excepting one man and a woman, were out at their corn 
fields, leaving the young ones to take care of their houses. About 


m'cullough’s narrative. 


95 


ten o'clock of the day, four ol the little fellows and I went into the 
creek to bathe ourselves, the creek is perhaps about sixty or seventy 
yards wide ; there is a ridge of rocks that reaches across the stream, 
where I had often observed the Indians wading across, the water 
being deep at each side: I ventured to wade over, and made out 
very well, until I got about a rod off the shore on the opposite side; 
when the water began to get too deep for me, I turned ab°ut, proud 
of my performance. When I had got about half way back I missed 
my course, and all at once stepped over the edge of the rocks, and 
went down over head and ears ; I made a few springs as high as I 
could above the water, at last I swallowed so much water, and not 
having yet learned to swim, I was obliged to give over. When the 
little fellows who came to bath along with me, saw that I had given 
myself up, they raised the scream. The woman whom I mentioned 
before, came running to the bank to see what was the matter ; they 
told her that Isting-go-weh-hing (for that was the name they gave 
me) was drowned. She immediately ran to the house and awaked 
her husband, who came as quick as possible (as they told me after¬ 
wards) to my relief; as I kept afloat all the time, he waded up to his 
chii. before he could get a hold of me by the leg, he then trailed me 
through the water until he got to the rocks that I had stepped over, 
he then laid me on his shoulder and brought me out to the bank, 
where he threw me down, supposing that I was dead. It happened 
that my head was down hill; the water gushed out of my mouth 
and nose ; he had previously sent off one of the little boys to inform 
my friends of the accident. After some time I began to show some 
signs of life. He then took me by the middle, clasping his hands 
across my belly, and shook me, the water still running plentifully 
out of my mouth and nose. By the time my friends arrived, I be¬ 
gan to breathe more freely. They carried me up the bank to a 
week-a-waum , or house, and laid me down on a deer skin, where I 
lay till about the middle of the afternoon ; at last I awoke out of 
sleep and was surprised to see a great number of Indians of both 
sexes standing around me. I raised my head, my old brother ad¬ 
vanced toward me, and said, “ au moygh-t-ha-heeh a-moigli ,” that 
is, rise, go and bathe yourself. I then recollected what I had been 
doing. He told me that if he would see me in the creek again he 
would drown me out right; however, the very next day I was pad¬ 
dling in the water again. Some time whilst we resided at Sfienang- 
go , (perhaps in the latter end of November,) about thirty warriors 
returned through Shenang-go , from a tour ; they were of the Mingo 
nation ; they had a number of scalps with them, and a prisoner, a 
man of about twenty-five years of age ; one of the party had got 
wounded in the body; the prisoner had a large bundle of blankets 
tied up and slung on his back, with a hcip-pees, for the wounded In¬ 
dian to sit on. I make no doubt, but that he had carried him the 
whole way from where he received the wound, which, I presume, 
could not be less than two hundred miles ; they tarried about two 
hours in town, then started off again ;—the prisoner had to take the 


96 


M^tTLLOUGH’s NARRATIVE. 


wounded Indian on his back again and march off; I understood they 
had to go a considerable distance beyond Presquile, which I pre¬ 
sume could not be less than three hundred and fifty or four hundred 
miles, that the poor unfortunate prisoner had to carry the wounded 
Indian on his back, before they would get to their destination :— 
however he had one advantage of what other prisoners had to under¬ 
go, that was, he was exempted from a severe beating, at every town 
they went through before they got to their destination, which every 
grown person has to suffer, as I shall relate hereafter. I understood 
by them, that it was a general custom among all their nations, that 
if any one happened to get wounded, that the rest would do their 
utmost to take a prisoner, or prisoners, to carry their wounded. 

We lived about two years and a half in Shenango: we then 
moved to where they were settling a new town, called Kstek-lxe- 
oong , that is, a place of salt, a place now well known by the name 
of Salt Licks, on the wast branch of Beaver, where we lived about 
one year: we moved there about the time that General Forbes took 
Fort Du Quesne from the French. My brother had been about 
three years married; they had a young son whom they thought a 
great deal of; my sister-in-law was very cross to me, when my 
brother was absent; he had heard of it, and asked me when we were 
by ourselves, if his wife did not strike me sometimes, when he was 
absent,'—I told him she did,—he bid me to let him know if ever she 
would strike me again ; not long after, my brother being absent, she 
went to the corn field to work, and left her son in my care ; as soon 
as she left us, I began to divert myself with a foot ball; the little 
fellow was running after me crying aloud, and his mother heard 
him. While I was engaged in my diversion, she came behind me 
unnoticed, and knocked me down with the handle of a billhook. I 
took the first opportunity to inform my brother how she had treated 
me; he advised her not to treat me so any more, telling her what 
the consequence would be if she did. She was highly affronted at 
him, and went off and left us. About three days after, she came 
back, attended by a female cousin of hers, to carry off her movea¬ 
bles ; whilst she was gathering up her goods, my brother stepped 
out, and began to try the strength of some small branches that had 
been recently chopped off a green tree; at seeing that, she fled out 
of the house and ran as fast as she was able,—he pursued her, and 
whipped her severely; she ran back to the house for protection, 
and squatted down behind his mother, who had occasionly come to 
see us ; it put the thoughts of leaving us out of her head: neither 
did she ever strike me afterwards. 

Sometime while we resided at Kseek-he-oong , or Salt Licks, Mos- 
sooh-whese, or Ben Dickson, invented a kind of punishment to in¬ 
flict on boys who would do mischief, such as quarrelling, plundering' 
watermelon, or cucumber patches, &c., in the following manner:— 
there is a kind of fish that abounds in the western waters, called a 
gar, that has a very long bill, and long sharp teeth ; he took the bill 
of one of those fish,, and wrapped a thin rag round it, projecting the* 


M‘CULLOUGH’3 narrative. 


97 


teeth through the rag. He took any one who would do any kind 
of mischief, and after wetting their thighs and legs, he would score 
them from the hip down to the heel, three or four times on each 
thigh and leg, and some times, if they were found guilty, a second 
or third time, he would score them from the top of the shoulder 
down to the wrists, and from the top of the shoulder, on the back, 
to the contrary hip, crossways. It happened once, that a nephew 
of his, a very mischievous boy, threw the entrails of a turtle in my 
face, then ran off as quick as he could from me round the house; I 
picked up a stone and pursued him, and threw it after him; it hap¬ 
pened to light on the top of his head and knocked him down, and 
cut his head badly, or, it is probable, he would have concealed it, as 
he well knew what the consequence would be ; for his back, arms, 
thighs and legs were almost constantly raw, by the fiequent punish¬ 
ments he got for his mischief. 

However, Mush-sooh-whese happened to be out a fishing at the 
time ; he was informed when he came home of what had taken place ; 
I was apprehensive of what would be my doom, and was advised 
by my friencs to hide myself; accordingly I got into a small addi¬ 
tion to the house, where a number of bails of deer skin and fur 
were piled up: I had not been long there until I heard him enqui¬ 
ring for me; they told him that I had gone down to the creek, and 
was not returned yet: he therefore ordered one of my brothers, 
(who had been with him a fishing the day before,) to stand up until 
he would score him ; as my brother was partly man grown, he re¬ 
fused ; a struggle ensued—however, my brother was obliged to give 
up. The reason he gave for punishing others who were not present 
at the time the mischief was done, was, that if they should be pres¬ 
ent at the time that any one was promoting mischief, he should do 
his best endeavour to prevent it, or inform against those who had 
done it—as the informer was always exempted from the punishment 
aforesaid. I then heard him say, that, if I was to stay away a year 
he would score me; he then went to the creek on the hunt of me; 
after he was gone, thev told me that 1 might as well come out as 
conceal myself; accordingly I did. In a short time he came back, 
grinning and showing his toeth as if he had got a prize ; he ordered 
me to stand up at the side of a post; I obeyed his orders—he then 
took and wet my thighs and legs, to prevent the skin from tearing: 
he took the gar’s bill, and gave me four scores, or scrapes, with it, 
from the point of the hip down to the heel—the mark of which I 
will carry to my grave. 

My oldest brother was from home at the time the above punish¬ 
ment was inflicted on us ; he came home that same night; I scarce¬ 
ly ever saw him more out of humour, than when he found the way 
we had beon treated. He said, (whether lie was in earnest or not, 
I cannot tell,) that if he had been at home, he would have applyed 
his tim-mct-heek-can , to Mus-sook-whese’s head, rather than suffer 
such an ignominious punishment, as he conceived it, to be inflicted 
9 


#8 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


on any of his family. However, he told Mus-swli-whese , never to 
do the like again without his consent. 

I was very near being innocently punished, about a year after¬ 
wards, notwithstanding I had more than a dozen of witnesses to 
prove that I was not, in the course of that day, where the mischief 
was done ; which was only the plundering of a watermelon patch. 

Whilst we were living at Kseek-he-oong , one Andrew Wilkins, a 
trader, came to the town, and was taken ill while there—he sent me 
to the other end of the town with some beads, to purchase a fowl 
for him, to work off a physic with ; when I came back, he was sit¬ 
ting alone in the house: as he could talk the Indian tongue telerably 
well, he began to question me about where I was taken from ; I told 
him from Conococheague—he asked my name; I told him. As 
soon as he returned to Shippensburg, (which was his place of resi¬ 
dence,) he informed my father that he had seen me, which was the 
first account they received of me, from the time I was taken. The 
next spring, we moved to a town about fifteen miles off, called Mo - 
hon-ing, which signifies a lick. Some time in the summer follow¬ 
ing, my father came to Mo-hon-ing, and found me out. I was shy 
in speaking to him, even by an interpreter, as I had at that time for¬ 
got my mother tongue. My Indian brother not being at home, my 
father returned to Pittsburg and left me. 

My brother was gone to Tus-cct-la-iuays, about forty or fifty 
miles off, to see and hear a prophet that had just made his appearance 
amongst them ; he was of the Delaware nation; I never saw nor 
heard him. It was said, by those who w r ent to see him, that he had 
certain hieroglyphics marked on a piece of parchment, denoting the 
probation that human beings were subjected to, whilst they were liv¬ 
ing on earth, and also, denoting something of a future state. They 
informed me that he was almost constantly crying whilst he was 
exhorting them. I saw a copy of his hieroglyphics, as numbers of 
them had got them copied and undertook to preach, or instruct oth¬ 
ers. The first, (or principal doctrine,) they taught them, was to 
purify themselves from sin, which, they taught, they could do by 
the use of emetics, and abstinence from carnal knowledge of the 
different sexes; to quit the use of fire arms, and to live entirely in 
the original state that they were in before the white people found 
out their country, nay, they taught that that fire was not pure that 
was made by steel and flint, but that they should make it by rub¬ 
bing two sticks together, which I have frequently assisted to do, in 
the following manner: take a piece of red cedar, have it well sea¬ 
soned, get a rod of bortree, well seasoned, gouge out a small bit 
with the point of a knife, cut off the cedar about an eighth of an 
inch from the edge, set the end of the bortree in it, having first stuck 
a knife in the side of the cedar, to keep the dust that will rub out by 
the friction ; then take it between the hands, and rub it, pressing 
hard on the cedar and rubbing as quick as possible ; in about half a 
minute the fire will kindle. It was said, that their prophet taught 
them, or made them believe, that he had his instructions immediately 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


99 


from Keesh-she-la-mil-lang-up , or a being that thought us into be¬ 
ing, and that by following his instructions, they would A in a few 
years, be able to drive the white people out of their country. 

I knew a company of them, who had secluded themselves for the 
purpose of purifying from sin, as they thought they could do ; I be¬ 
lieve they made no use of fire-arms. They had been out more than 
two years before I left them ; whether they conformed rigidly to the 
rules laid down to them by their prophet, I am not able to say with 
any degree of certainty,—but one thing I know, that several women 
resorted to their encampment; it was said, that they made use of no 
other weapons than their bows and arrows: they also taught, in 
shaking hands, to give the left hand in token of friendship, as it de¬ 
noted that they gave the heart along with the hand,—but I believe 
that to have been an ancient custom among them, and 1 am rather of 
opinion, that the practice is a caution against enemies—that is, if 
any violence should be offered, they would have the right hand rea¬ 
dy to seize their tim-ma-heek can , or tomahawk, or their paughk- 
sheek-can , or knife, to defend themselves, if necessary. 

The fall following, my father went out to fort Venenggo, or French 
Creek, along with Wilkins. Wilkins sent a special messenger to 
Mohoning, for my brother to take me to Venenggo, telling him that 
my father would purchase me from him; accordingly he took me 
off without letting me know his intention, or, it is probable, I would 
not have gone with him. When we got to Venenggo, we encamp¬ 
ed about a mile from the garrison ; my brother went to the garrison 
to bargain with my father for me, but told me nothing of it. The 
next morning my father and two others came to our camp, and told 
me that my brother wanted to see me at the fort; I went along with 
them ; when vve got there he told me that I must go home with my 
father, to see my mother and the rest of my friends ; I wept bitter¬ 
ly—all to no purpose ; my father was ready to start; they laid hold 
of me and set me on a horse—1 threw my myself off; they set me 
on again, and tied my legs under the horse’s belly, and started away 
for Pittsburg; we encamped about ten or fifteen miles from Veneng¬ 
go ; before we lay down, my father look his garters and tied my 
arms behind my back; however, I had them loose before my father 
lay down; I took care to keep it concealed from them by keeping 
my arms back as if they were tied. About midnight, I arose from 
between my father and John Simeons, who was to accompany us to 
Pittsburg; I stepped out from the fire and sat down as if I hod a 
real necessity for doing so ; my father and Simeons arose and mend¬ 
ed up the fire; whilst they were laying the chunks together, I ran 
off as fast as I could ; I had got near a hundred yards from the camp, 
when I heard them hunting a large dog, which they had along with 
them, after me; I thought the dog would certainly overtake me; I 
therefore climbed up a tall tree, as fast as I could; the dog stopped 
at the root of the tree, but as they continued to hunt him on, he ran 
off again—they came past the tree: after they passed by me, I 
climbed further up, until I got to some limbs, where I could rest 


100 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


myself; the dog came back to the tree again,—after a short time 
they came back and stood a considerable time at the root of the tree 
—then returned to the fire; I could see them distinctly from where 
I was; I remained on the tree about an hour; I then went down 
and steered through the woods till I found the road; I went about 
two or three miles alorg it, and the wolves were making a hideous 
noise all around me : I went off the road a short distance and climb¬ 
ed up a dogwood sapling, and fixed myself on the branches of it, 
where 1 remained till break of day; I then got on the road again; 
1 ran along as fast as I was able, for about five miles, where I came 
to an Indian camp : they told me that 1 had better not keep the road, 
alledging that I would certainly be pursued ; I took their advice and 
went off the road immediately, and steered through the woods till I 
got to where my friends w T ere encamped; they advised me to take 
along the road that we came, when we came there; telling me that 
they were going to return home that day ; I made no delay, but went 
on about ten miles, and there w’aited till they came up with me. 
Not long alter I left them, my father came to the camp ; they deni¬ 
ed that they had seen me—supposing that I had gone on to Motio¬ 
ning by myself, telling him that if I had, that they would take me 
to Pittsburg that fall. 

Soon after we got home to Mohoning, instead of taking me to 
Pittsburg, agreeable to their promise, they set out on their fall hunt, 
taking me along with them ; we staid out till some time in the win¬ 
ter before we returned. 

We lived about a mile out of Mohoning; there were some tra¬ 
ders at Kseek-he-oong , or Salt Licks, early in the spring. A neph¬ 
ew of my adopted brother’s had stole a horse from one Tom Green, 
a trader; he pursued the thief to Mohoning; he was gone out a 
trapping when Green came after him. Green waited three days on 
the Indian’s return with the horse. The third night, about mid¬ 
night, there came an alarm, which was notified by hallooing Qua - 
ah t still repeating four halloos at a time, at certain intervals. When 
we heard the alarm, my eldest brother went off to the town, to see 
what was the matter. In about two hours he returned ; Green ask¬ 
ed him what was the matter—he told him that it was some foolish 
young fellows that had done it, for diversion. Green did not seem 
to be satisfied with the answer. However, about sun-rise Mus • 
sougli-whese , (an Indian, my adopted brother’s nephew, known by 
the name of Ben Dickson, among the white people,) came to our 
house; he had a pistol and a large scalping knife, concealed under 
his blanket, belted round his body. He informed Ket-tooh-ha-lend y 
(for that was my adopted brother’s name,) that he came to kill Tom 
Green; but Ket-tooh-ha-lend endeavoured to persuade him off it. 
They walked out together, and Green followed them, endeavouring, 
as I suppose, to discover the cause of the alarm the night before; 
in a short time they returned to the house, and immediately went 
out again. Green asked me to bring him his horse, as we heard 
the bell a short distance off; he then went after the Indians again. 


h‘cullough’s narrative. 


101 


and I went for the horse. As I was returning, I observed them 
coming out of a house, about two hundred yards from ours ; Ket- 
toohrha-lend was foremost, Green in the middle; I took but slight 
notice of them, until 1 heard the report of a pistol; I cast my eyes 
towards them, and observed the smoke, and saw Green standing on 
the side of the path, with his hands across his breast; I thought it 
had been him that shot: he stood a few moments, then fell on his 
face across the path; I instantly got off the horse, and held him by 
the bridle,— Ket-tooh-ha-lend sunk his pipe tomahawk into his 
skull; Mus-souh-whesc stabbed him under the arm-pit with his 
scalping knife; he had shot him between the shoulders with his 
pistol. The squaws gathered about him, and stripped him naked, 
trailed him down the bank, and plunged him into the creek; there 
was a fresh in the creek, at the time, which carried him off. Mus- 
sough-whese then came to me, (where I was holding the horse, as I 
had not moved from the spot where I was when Green was shot,) 
with the bloody knife in his hand; he told me that he was coming 
to kill me next; he reached out his hand and took hold of the bridle, 
telling me that, that was his horse; I was glad to parley with him 
on the terms, and delivered the horse to him. All the Indians in the 
town immediately collected together, and started off to the Salt 
Licks, where the rest of the traders were, and murdered the whole 
of them, and divided their goods amongst them, and likewise their 
horses. My adopted brother took two horse loads of beaver skin, 
and set off with them to Tus-ca-law-ivays, where a number of tra¬ 
ders resided, and sold the fur to them. There happened to be an 
old Indian, who was known amongst the traders by the name of 
Daniel; he cautioned the traders not to purchase the fur from him, 
assuring them that he had murdered some traders—to convince them, 
he showed them that the skins were marked with so many different 
marks, which convinced him in his opinion ; however, either through 
fear or some other motive, they exchanged goods for the fur; the 
same evening, old Daniel offered his service to them, assuring them 
that he would endeavour to conduct them safe into Pittsburg, adding 
that if they would not take his advice, he was sure they would be 
all murdered by day light the next morning; they took his advice, 
and as they lived about a mile out of town, they had an opportunity 
of going away without being discovered ; they started shortly after 
dark, as was conjectured by the Indians, leaving all their merchan¬ 
dise behind them ; how many there were of them, I do not recollect 
of hearing; however, as I heard, they went on safe until they got 
to Ksack-hoong , an old Indian town at the confluence of the Beaver 
and Ohio, where they came to an Indian camp unawares ; probably 
the Indians had discovered them before they reached the camp, as 
they were ready for them; as soon as they made their appearance, 
the Indians fired on them—the whole of them fell, excepting old 
Daniel, and one Calhoun, who made his escape into Pittsburg; old 
Daniel had a bullet shot into his saddle, close behind him, the mark 


9 * 


102 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


of which I frequently saw, after he made his escape back to his 
friends. 

Mohoning lay on the frontier, as they had evacuated all their 
towns to the north of it, when the war commenced. Shortly after 
the commencement of the war, they plundered a tanyard near to 
Pittsburg, and carried away several horse loads of leather, they also 
committed several depredations along the Juniata; it happened to 
be at a time when the small-pox was in the settlement where they 
were murdering, the consequence was, a number of them got infec¬ 
ted, and some died before they got home, others shortly after ; those 
who took it after their return, were immediately moved out of 
the town, and put under the care of one who had had the disease 
before. In one of their excursions, they took some prisoners— 
amongst them was one of the name of Beaty, whom they beat un¬ 
mercifully, when they took him to Mohoning; they set him to 
make bridles for them, (that is to fill old bits,) of the leather they 
took from Pittsburg; he appeared very cross; he would often run 
at the little fellows with his knife or awls, when they came to look 
at him where he was at work: however, they soon took him off to 
Cay-a-haw-ge, a town not far distant from Lake Erie. 

We remained in Mohoning till shortly after the memorable battle 
at Brushy Run; we then moved to Cay-a-haw-ga ; the day before 
we got there, they began to be alarmed at Beaty’s behaviour; they 
held a council, and agreed to kill him, lest he should take some of 
their lives. They led him about fifty or sixty perhces out of the 
town, some walking before and some behind him ; they then shot 
him with arrows ! 1 went out the evening after we got there, along 

with some little fellows, to see him ; he was a very disagreeable 
sight to behold; they had shot a great number of arrows into his 
body—then went off and left him exposed to the vermin ! 

The same year that Beaty was taken, Ket-tooh-ha-lend was their 
Moy-a-sooh-whese , or foreman, of a party consisting of nine Indi¬ 
ans ; they came to a house where there were two men and a woman 
who had killed a hog, and had a large pot of water on the fire, ma¬ 
king ready to scald it— Ket-tooh-ha-lend rushed into the house—the 
rest stopped at the outside; he seized the woman and shoved her 
out of the door, and told the rest to take care of her; one of the 
men broke out of the house and made off, whilst the other catched 
hold of Ket-tooh-ha-lend by the arms, and endeavoured to put him 
into the pot of boiling water, shoving him back to the corner of the 
house, where two guns were standing—he said he frequently called 
on the rest to come in to assist him, but none of them would venture 
in. The man was constantly looking about, either for assistance or 
fear of the rest of the Indians; he therefore, after he was almost 
exhausted, watched his opportunity, and suddenly putting his hand 
up behind the man’s back, and catching hold of his queue, jerked 
his head back, by which means he got his other arm disengaged, 
and drew his Tim-ma-htek-can, or tomahawk, and knocked him on 
the head. But to his great mortification, when he came out, he 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


103 


found the woman whom he had shoved out of the door, lying dead 
and scalped. 

We stayed but a short time in Cay-a-haw-ge , then moved across 
the country to the forks of Moosh-king-oong , which signifies clear 
eyes, as the river abounds with a certain kind of fish that have very 
clear eyes ; from thence we took up the west branch to its source, 
and from thence I know not where. 

Nothing remarkable happened during our peregrinations, except¬ 
ing what we suffered by hunger, it being in the winter ; we some¬ 
times had to make use of the stems of turkey quills for food, by 
running them under hot embers till they would swell and get crisp. 
We have subsisted on gum bark, and sometime on white plantain ; 
but the greater part of our time on a certain kind of root that has 
something of the resemblance of a potatoe. 

In the spring we returned to the west branch of Moosh-king-oong , 
and settled in a new town which we called Kta-ho-ling , which sig¬ 
nifies a place where roots have been dug up for food. We remained 
there during the summer. 

Sometime in the summer, whilst we were living at Kta-ho-ling , 
a great number of Indians collected at the forks of Moos-king-oong , 
perhaps there were about three hundred or upwards; their intention 
was to come to the settlement and make a general massacre of the 
whole people, without any regard to age or sex ; they were out 
about ten days when the most of them returned; having held a 
council, they concluded that it was not safe for them to leave their 
towns destitute of defence. However, several small parties went on 
to different parts of the settlements : it happened that three of them, 
whom I was well acquainted with, came to the neighborhood of 
where I was taken from—they were young fellows, perhaps none 
of them more than twenty years of age,—they came to a school 
house, where they murdered and scalped the master and all the 
scholars, except one, who survived after he was scalped, a boy about 
ten years old, and a full cousin of mine. I saw the Indians when 
they returned home with the scalps ; some of the old Indians were 
very much displeased at them for killing so many children, espe¬ 
cially Neep-paugh-whese y or Night Walker, an old chief, or half 
king,—he ascriebd it to cowardice, which was the greatest affront he 
could offer them. 

In the fall we were alarmed by a report that the white people 
were marching out against them, which, in a short time, proved to 
be true ; Col. Barquett, with an army, was then actually marching 
out against them. As the Delaware nation was always on the fron¬ 
tier, (which was the nation I was amongst,) they had the first notice 
of it, and immediately gave the alarm to the other nations adjoining 
them. A council was called: the result was, that they were scarce 
of ammunition, and were not able to fight him ; that they were then 
destitute of clothing; and that, upon the whole, it was best to come 
on terms of peace with the white people. Accordingly they sent off 
special messengers to meet the army on their march, in order to let 


104 


j^cullough’s narrative. 


them know that they were disposed to come on terms of peace with 
them. The messengers met the army at Tuscalaways. They crept 
up to the camp after dark, and informed the guard that they were 
sent by their nation to sue for peace. The commander of the army 
sent for them to come into camp; they went and delivered their 
mission. The Colonel took care to take hostages for their fidelity; 
the remainder were suffered to return; but he told them he would 
march his army on to Moosh-king-oong , where he expected to meet 
their chiefs and warriors, to come on terms of peace with him, as¬ 
suring them at the same time, that he would not treat with them, 
but upon condition, that they would deliver up all the prisoners they 
had in their possession. The messengers returned, and gave a nar¬ 
rative of their mission. The Sha-a-noo-wack , or Shawanese, were 
not satisfied with the terms ; however as the Delawares had left 
hostages with the commander of the army, the Shawanese acqui¬ 
esced to come on terms of peace, jointly with the other tribes. 
Accordingly the army marched on to Moosh-king-oong. The day 
they arrived there, an express was sent off to one of their nearest 
towns, to inform them that they were ready to treat with them. We 
then lived about ten miles from Moosh-king-oong ; accordingly they 
took all the prisoners to the camp, myself amongst the rest, and de¬ 
livered us up to the army. We were immediately put under a 
guard,—a few days after, we were sent under a strong guard to Pitts 
burg. On our way two of the prisoners made their escape, to wit, 
one Rhoda Boyd and Elizabeth Studibaker, and went back to the 
Indians. I never heard whether they were ever brought back or 
not.—There were about two hundred of us—we were kept a few 
days in Pittsburg. There was one John Martin, from the Big Cove, 
came to Pittsburg after his family, who had been taken by the In¬ 
dians the fall before I was taken : he got leave from the Colonel to 
bring me down along with his family. I got home about the middle 
of December, 1764, being absent (as I heard my parents say) eight 
years, four months, and sixteen days. Previous to my return, my 
father had sold his plantation, where I was taken from, and bought 
another about four miles from the former, where I have resided 
ever since. 

When I reflect on the various scenes of life I came through during 
my captivity, methinks I see the hand of Providence, remarkably 
conspicuous, throughout the whole. First, What but the hand of 
Providence directed them to take us alive, when our scalps might 
have answered the same purpose? or that they should, when appa¬ 
rently in danger, risk their lives by the incumbrance of us, by carry¬ 
ing us on their backs ? Secondly, That they should not have 
drowned me outright, when they washed me in the Allegheny 
river ? Thirdly, That they took any care of me, when I was 
apparently on the point of death, by two severe fits of sickness ? 
Fourthly, That they should have taken any notice of me, when I 
was, to all appearance, drowned at Shenanggo ? Nay, I have often 
thought that the hand of Providence guided me in making my escape 


M‘CULLOUGIl’s NARRATIVE. 


105 


from my father, as, in all probability, I would have been at the 
school, where the master and scholars were murdered, as I had two 
cousins among the number, one of whom was scalped, and who, I 
believe, is yet alive ;—or even when Mus-sough-whese came to me, 
after he had murdered Green, with the bloody knife in his hand. 
I say, me thinks I see the hand of Providence remarkably displayed 
throughout the whole. 

How often are we exposed to dangers, which we have neither 
had knowledge of nor power to prevent ? I could have related many 
dangers that I was exposed to, during my captivity, which I have 
thought proper to omit in the foregoing narrative; as I am conscious 
that there arc numbers, who never have had the trial of what they 
were able to undergo, would be ready to charge me with falsehood, 
as I have often observed what other narrators have met with. 

Perhaps it will not be amiss to conclude this narrative, with a 
few observations on the manners and customs of the aborigenes of 
our country. 


INDIAN MANNERS AND CUSTOMS. 

They count it very bad manners, for any one to speak while ano¬ 
ther is talking, or for any one to interrupt another in discourse. 
They will readily cast up to any one who would do so, that they 
were no better than Sho-wan nougli-kock , or white people. Whilst 
one is delivering a discourse, or relating a story, they pay the great¬ 
est attention to him, occasionally repeating the word ke-hel-lah , 
which signifies, I am paying attention to what you are saying. I 
shall now enter on the detail, as near as I can recollect. 

They have some confused notion of the immortality of the soul, 
but they differ widely even in that point of their creed. Some are 
of opinion, that after the soul leaves the body, it enters into the body 
of some foetus of their own nation, where it will have to undergo 
all the vicissitudes of life, as they had done whilst they were in the 
former body, and that they will go from one body to another 
throughout the endless ages of eternity. Others are of opinion, that 
as soon as their Lin-nap pe-oc-can , or soul, leaves the body, it 
takes its flight to Keesh-she-la-mil-lang-vp , or a being that thought 
us into being, as the word signifies, or to Mah-tan-tooh , or bad 
spirit, that is, the devil, there to enjoy happiness or endure misery, 
according to deeds done in the body. Others are of opinion, that 
their Lin-nap pe-oc-can , will have to wander about on the earth, for 
the same period of time that they had lived in the world, and under¬ 
go the same vicissitudes that they had done whilst they remained in 
the body ; then after that, they will go to Keesh-she-la-mil-lang-up y 
where they expect to remain in a happy state forever. I never un¬ 
derstood by them, that they had any idea of the resurrection of the 
body after death.* 

* The above were the general points, or heads of their creed, before their pro¬ 
phet made his appearance amongst them. 


106 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


As to their religion, (if they may be said to have any,) they 
generally select their seed corn, when they are pulling it. After 
they plant, they take part of what is left, and sometimes the whole, 
and pound it into meal, then knead it into a large cake, and bake it 
under the ashes, having previously procured the head and neck of a 
doe, which they boil into jelly, then invite one of the oldest Indians 
of the town to come and eat it, permitting him or her to carry off 
the remainder with them. This, they say, is an offering to their 
maker, praying that he would give them a good increase of what 
they put in the ground. In like manner when their corn is in the 
roasting-ear, before they eat any of it themselves, they hunt for a 
buck;—if they happen to get a large one, they count it a good 
omen. They boil the whole in their kettles, and take as much of 
the green corn as they judge to be sufficient for their purpose, scrap¬ 
ing it off the cob, and thickening the broth with it; then they invite 
twelve of the oldest persons in the town, to wit, six men and six 
women. When they assemble at the place, each brings a small 
kettle and a spoon with them. They are told that the provision 
prepared is an offering to Keesh-she-la-mil-lang-up . Having pre¬ 
viously divided the meat into twelve shares, they give each an equal 
portion, and also divide the broth, or rather mush in the same man¬ 
ner. After they have eaten till they are satisfied, they raise a loud 

halloo, thus, h - o , holding the sound as long as they are able to 

retain it with one breath, repeating it twelves times ; stopping at 
certain intervals and thanking their Maker for sending them such 
good provisions. After the ceremony is over, they take the skin of 
the buck and give it to one of the twelve, whom they think is in 
most need of it; at the same time giving one of the other sex as 
much wampum as they value the skin to be worth; at which they 
step out of doors and sit down, with their faces towards the rising of 
the sun, and perform the same ceremony, with the addition of sound¬ 
ing the word h -e, twice, with a low voice. After all is over, 

each retires home, carrying what they left from their meal home 
with them. 

They have also several other rites : such as making a burnt offer¬ 
ing of the head and neck of a buck to the sun ; which they will per¬ 
form with great solemnity, in the following manner: When the 
hunting season commences, the first large buck they kill they cut 
the neck off the the body, close to the shoulders; carry it home 
with the horns on ; kindle a large fire, placing the wood east and 
west; lay the offering on the middle of the fire, with the face of it 
toward the east; then they take a terrapine shell, with a parcel of 
small white stones in it, and walk round the fire, rattling the shell, 
and singing very loud until the whole is consumed, the rest of the 
family sitting round the fire the whole time without uttering one 
word; neither will they eat any of the flesh of the buck, till after 
the offering is entirely consumed. It w r ould be endless to describe 
the offerings they make to their various deities, such as the moon, 
burnt offerings to angels, which they denominate Sink-ho-leek-can- 



m^cullough’s narrative. 


106 


nack, which signifies spirits above. They also make offerings to 
their deceased relatives ; such as tobacco, bread, meat, watermelons, 
and sometime wampum and apparel. It would be unnecessary to be 
particular in describing the various offerings that they offer to their 
various deities. 1 shall therefore dismiss this subject, and enter on 
others more interesting. 

When a woman is in her pregnancy, she generally provides a hut, 
to which she resorts, when the time of her delivery approaches—as 
she does also at certain other times—during which period she has 
no communication with any other person, except those who carry 
provisions to her. Before she comes to her house again, she washes 
herself, and all her clothes, let the season be ever so severe. How 
they became so far acquainted with the Mosaic law, as treats of un- 
cleanness, is a mystery to me ! I shall therefore leave the subject 
to be developed by abler writers. 

OF THEIR MODE OF WARFARE. 

When any one takes it into his head to go a tour at war, he in¬ 
forms some of his friends, or intimates, of his design, and if any of 
them approve of it, they tell him they will go along with him. As 
soon as he has three or four of a company made up, they go to their 
council-house, (as they have one in every town,) at night; having 
previously provided a drum for that purpose, they beat it, and sing 
war songs, and dance war dances. They are soon joined by others. 
As soon as they think they have a sufficient number, they proclaim 
the day they intend to march, and he that made the first proposition 
of going, is their Moy-a-ooh-wliese , or foreman, for that tour. When 
they are ready to march, their Moy-a-ooh-wliese, or captain, puts 
his luggage on his back, takes up his gun and tomahawk, and some¬ 
times his baugli-cas-king-giic-heek-can, or what we call death mal¬ 
let, the rest following his example; he sings a war song, the rest, 
at the same time, pronouncing a kind of articulation, or noise, (which 
I am not able to spell, with all the assistance the English alphabet 
can give.) When he is done, they all at once set up a most hideous 
yell. He then marches foremost out of the house, the rest follow¬ 
ing one after another, in the form of what we call Indian file ; when 
lie is got clear of the town, he fires off his gun, and the rest follow 
his example. He then raises a war song, or tune, (which actually 
has some music in it,) which he sings so loud, that he may be easily 
heard a mile or two off, at which he continues till he gets out of 
hearing, the rest raising hideous yells at certain intervals. It must 
be observed, that if any one draws back, (which is seldom the case,) 
he is reckoned to be a coward ; so that they would rather abide the 
consequence of whatever might befall them, than to be charged with 
cowardice. When they return, they fix what scalps they get on the 
end of a long pole, which their Moy-a-ooh-wliese , or foreman, car¬ 
ries over his shoulder ; the prisoners either go before or close after 
him. He raises the war halloo as soon as he thinks he is near 


108 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


enough the town to be heard : as soon as he is heard at the town, 
all the young men run out to meet them; the foremost takes hold 
of the pole that the scalps are fixed to, and runs to the council- 
house as fast as he is able; some of those who come out to meet 
them, pursue the one that carries off the scalps, and the rest fall to 
beating the prisoners, (that is, if the prisoners are men,) if they are 
women, some of the men take hold of them by the hand, and lead 
them along; as soon as the squaws observe them, they run to meet 
them, and follow the example of the men : the beating that the wo¬ 
men get, depends on those who lead them—that is, whether they 
run fast or slow. They generally quit beating them when they get 
to the council-house—the severe usage they get, depends on the 
number of towns they have to pass through, as they have to under¬ 
go a like treatment at every town. When they get to their destina¬ 
tion, they adopt them into some family. Those whom they design 
to burn, they paint their faces black : they have a custom, (it cannot 
be said to be a law,) that is, if any one will offer the value of thirty 
buck-skins for the victim, he must be given up to him, alledging 
they would have bad luck if they refused to accept it: the one who 
makes the purchase, keeps him as a slave, to hunt and raise corn 
for him. I knew an old Indian who made three of these purchases ; 
he was a man that showed great lenity to the white people ; although 
he had been a great warrior, when he was young, whilst they were at 
war with other nations—such as the Catawbas, Cherokees, &c. I 
recollect he gave all those whom he had purchased up, at the time I 
was given up. The old Indian had his body covered over, from 
head to foot, with certain hieroglyphics—which they performed by 
inserting gunpowder, or charcoal, into the skin with the point of a 
turkey quill, sharpened in the form of a pen, or some other instru¬ 
ment they have for that purpose; which always denotes valour.— 
The method they take to perform the operation, is by tying 
the person who has to undergo it, on a broad slab, stretching out 
his arms and legs at full length, fastening them to posts drove 
into the ground for the purpose. When one side is done they 
turn up the other. So great is their superstition, that they would 
rather suffer death than flinch. It must be observed it is but the 
fewest number will undergo the operation—as it is generally done 
at the risk oflife ; indeed it was almost entirely out of custom when 
I left them. 

I understood by them that it was their general custom, after they 
had been in an engagement, for every one who had taken off a scalp, 
to bring it to their Moy-a-ooh-wliese , or foreman, and throw it down 
at his feet. There was one, who, after scalping the head, then, for 
diversion, scalped a man’s privates, and brought it to his Moya-ooh- 
whese. I have heard him relate the fact, (as I believe it to be,) 
more than twenty times, which generally created a great laughter 
amongst them. I also heard others relate it as a fact, who were 
present at the time it was done. 

Another narrative I have frequently heard them relate, was, that 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


109 


they were out oil a tour against the southern nations,—that some 
time in the after part of the day, they discovered a track, which 
they followed till dark. They concluded to stop till morning ; but 
old Pee-til ,* that is Peter, an uncle of mine, (a most barbarous, 
inhuman old wretch,) told them that if they would follow him he 
would keep the track till day-light, they agreed to do so, and to 
their great surprise he shewed them the track the next morning, 
which they followed until about the middle of the day, when they 
came to an encampment of hunters, and surprised and killed a num¬ 
ber of them. 

I have often heard Mus-sooh-whese , or Ben Dickeson, relate that 
he had been down murdering, but was not satisfied with what he 
had done, because one white man had out-run him, and made his 
escape, notwithstanding he had shot at him when he was jumping 
over a fence, not more than four or five steps from him. He 
therefore left the company, and went to another part of the 
settlement, where he skulked about some time; at last, being 
at the side of a creek, one morning, he saw a deer in the 
water which he thought he would kill ; whilst he was creeping up 
to the deer, he heard a rustling in the leaves close by him; on look¬ 
ing about, he saw a white man creeping towards the deer, whom he 
shot instantly on the spot, and pulled off his scalp. An old man, 
whom he supposed to be the father of the man he had killed, came 
running towards him, hallooing at him if he had killed the deer ; as 
Dickeson could speak the English language perfectly well, he 
answered, Yes, by G—d, and if you don’t believe me here is the 
skin ; shaking his son’s scalp at him. The old man made his 
escape from him. 


OF MATRIMONY. 

When a man takes the notion of marriage, (that is only those who 
are of some note amongst them,) he informs his mother, or some 
other fem ile relative, of his intention of entering into the matrimo¬ 
nial state, requesting her to make a choice for him. She then 
mentions half a dozen or more whom she knows to be industrious, 
out of which he makes choice of two or three of the number—making 
a preference of one out of the whole ; he then gives his mother, or 
other female relative, a shroud, or piece of broad-cloth about a yard 
and a half square ; they are of different colours ; some red, some 
black, and some blue, which the women double up and tie round 
their waist for a petticoat; a blanket or pair of leggins ; and some- 

* Old Peetil was a brother to An-nan-zecs, whom I mentioned I had lived with 
the first year I was amongst them. Notwithstanding they were brothers, I pre¬ 
sume that their natural tempers were as opposite, as that between an angel of 
light, and the old promoter of all mischief, or the devil. 

Many cruelties I have heard others relate—which they said they had seen him 
do—besides one or two, that I had ocular demonstration of—how he treated two 
prisoners, (both females,) whom he had taken and kept as slaves; for he never 
would consent to have any of the white people adopted into his family. 

10 


no 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


times a shirt: if they are good hunters, and become pretty wealthy, 
they will sometimes send the whole as a present to the intended 
bride. The present is offered to the woman whom he first made 
choice of, and so on, alternately; if the first refuses to accept of it, 
the one that takes it is informed what part of the house he lies in : 
some time in the night, after they all retire to bed, the modest bride 
slips away to him and creeps down behind him—where she lies till 
about an hour or two before day ; then she rises and goes home, 
pounds a mortar full of corn, bakes it into cakes, puts them into a 
basket, carries them to the groom’s house and sets them down at his 
bed head ; then goes home again : he rises up by day-light, takes 
some of the cakes, and his gun,—if he has good luck, and kills a 
deer soon, it is reckoned a good omen ; he takes it on his back, and 
carries it to the bride’s house, throws it down at the door, and goes 
his way home, which completes the nuptials. The modest bride 
appears shy and bashful for a few days—and only goes to the groom 
at nights after the family retire to bed : still observing to bring the 
groom his provisions every morning, (that is if she has any to spare.) 
In a few days she becomes more familiar, and at last contents her¬ 
self to live along with him ; they are generally jealous with their 
wives, and sometimes they will whip them severely if they judge 
them to be unfaithful to the marriage bed. It must be observed, that 
the women have to do all the domestic labour—such as raising corn, 
cutting firewood and carrying it home on their backs ; and I have 
known the men when they had killed a deer five or six miles off, to 
carry the skin home on their backs, and send their wives for the 
carcase. The hard labor they are subjected to, is, perhaps, the 
reason they are not so prolific as civilized nations. They do not 
reckon polygamy to be a crime by the men, although a woman is 
obliged to content herself with one man at once. They are seldom 
guilty of incestuous marriages—I never knew but one instance of 
the kind whilst I was amongst them ; and that was a man that took 
two sisters to wife at the same time. I have heard them say, that 
if a man was known to be guilty of incest with a near relation, even 
a first cousin, that he ought to be put to death. 

OF THEIR FUNERALS. 

When one dies, they dress the corpse with a shirt, a new blanket 
or shroud, a pair of new leggins and moccasons ; tie belts and strings 
of wampum round the neck ; paint the face with vermillion, and 
then stretch them out. As soon as day-light disappears, two of the 
relatives of the deceased go out of the house where the corpse lies, 
and fire off their guns, six rounds, as fast as they can load and fire. 
As soon as that is over, all the men in the town fire off their guns 
alternately. So that a stranger, not acquainted with their ways, 
would be led to believe that it was an engagement. As many as 
choose, go to the wake. The women occupy the side of the fire 
where the corpse is laid ; the men the opposite side, where they 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


Ill 


pass their time at playing cards; the women are engaged at a cer¬ 
tain kind of play, which 1 think it needless to describe. At certain 
intervals the women quit their diversion, and set up a lamentable 
noise or tune, still repeating the relationship that existed between 
them and the deceased, at which the men quit the cards, and sit 
with great solemnity for about the space of half an hour : then go 
to their diversion again. About break of day they fire off their 
guns, as they had done the preceding evening. They dig the grave 
about four or five feet deep, directly east and west; they make slabs 
which they place on the bottom, and at each side; then lay in the 
corpse, with the head to the east, and put a broad slab over the top; 
then fill the grave nearly full of stones, heaping the dirt which they 
dug out of it on the top, so that when it is finished, it has the 
resemblance of a potatoe-hole ; they set up a long pole at each end 
of the grave ; they paint the one at the head, if the deceased lias 
been a warrior, with certain hieroglyphics—denoting how often he 
had gone to war—how many he had killed—if he has been a Moy- 
a-ooh-whese , or foreman—how many men he had lost, and how 
often he had been wounded. For a year after the interment, the 
female relatives will frequently go to the grave, and lament over the 
deceased ; they will sometimes take a parcel of tobacco to the grave, 
inviting some person, near of the same age of the deceased, to go 
along with them to smoke the tobacco, believing that the deceased 
will get the benefit of it after it is consumed. 

The only punishment they inflict for murder is, to retaliate on 
some of the most respectable relatives of the murderer: they will 
keep it in memory to the third and fourth generation. I knew one 
who stabbed another under the arm with his knife, whose great 
grandfather, he said, had killed his great grandfather, many years 
before ; they kept it in memory from one generation to another, till 
they found a fit object to wreak their vengeance upon. The fellow 
was told by the one who stabbed him, that he was going to revenge 
the death of his great grandfather on him ; he gave him three stabs 
under the left arm, but he got cured of his wounds; I saw him 
several times afterwards, and I heard those who were present at the 
time when he was stabbed, say, that he sat as unconcerned as if no¬ 
thing had ailed him, until some minutes after he had received the 
wounds ; he then tumbled over in a fainting fit. The knife was 
taken from the one who stabbed him—I saw it frequently afterwards, 
as it was my adopted brother that took it, and undertook the cure ; it 
was a common pocket knife, about three inches long in the blade. 

LITIGATION. 

Litigation is entirely unknown among them ; they allow that all 
men have an equal right to the soil, except what they improve—and 
that only during the time they occupy it. When a family build a 
house and improve a piece of land, and afterwards remove to another 
town, (which they frequently do,) the first that comes, takes posses- 


112 


m'cullough’s narravive. 


sion of the house and improvements, without any interruption. If 
the right owner returns within a year or two, they restore his house 
and field to him, without any contention.—If any one steals a horse, 
or any other property, the owner takes it wherever he can find it.— 
It must be observed, however, that they are seldom guilty of larceny 
amongst themselves, although they do not consider it to be a crime 
to steal from the white people. 

They pretend greatly to necromancy. If a person loses any 
thing, those necromancers will readily undertake to tell him, or her, 
whether the property was stolen or lost—if stolen, who the thief is, 
and where it might be found. Those conjurers are also considered 
to be doctors ; if they are applied to by the relatives of the sick, 
they will readily undertake the cure, still observing to conjure out 
the disease before they prescribe any medicine. The method they 
take is this :—They lay the patient on his back, or side, on the 
floor ; the doctor, or conjurer, sits down with great solemnity at his 
head, rattles a terrapine shell, and sings a conjuring song for about 
a quarter of an hour, then lays down his shell, clasps his hands and 
makes a kind of articulation, or noise, that nearly resembles dogs 
that are going to fight, talking by the intervals as if he w r as convers¬ 
ing with familiar spirits ; jirking from side to side, as if he were 
making some discovery, occasionally taking a sup of water, which 
he has set by his side, and blowing over his patient. After he has 
gone over his manoeuvres, he pretends that he has discovered the 
disorder; as he pretends that he can see into the inside of the pa¬ 
tient—he then gives directions what herbs to get, and how to make 
use of them. There were two of these conjuring doctors employed 
when I was sick, but I do not recollect that I got any benefit by 
them. 

Whilst we were living at Kseek-he-oong , my brother took unwell, 
he complained of a severe pain on the back part of his neck, or 
rather between his shoulders—as they impute almost every disease, 
incident to their manner of iving, to be the effect of witchcraft, my 
brother readily concluded, as well as others, that he was bewitched: 
he had no appetite, and appeared to pine away ; he continued in 
that condition more than a month, when a trading Indian came to 
the town with liquor—as they are generally much addicted to intox¬ 
ication, they soon got to drinking ; the night after they got to their 
drunken frolick, they continued to drink without relaxation whilst 
the liquor was kept in the town. A number of them, of both sexes, 
were collected at our house—we had two fires in the middle of the 
house, one at the side of the other; they were all sitting promiscu¬ 
ously on deer and bear skins, spread on the floor for that purpose. 
There was a woman who had the reputation of being ? witch ; my 
brother was in such pain that he could not turn his head round 
without turning his body also; whilst they were sitting round the 
fire, the woman, who was perhaps about forty years of age, rose up 
instantly and clapped down on her knees behind his back, she 
clinched her hands, putting one on the part that was pained, the 


m‘cullough’s narrative. 


113 


other on the top of that, then applied her mouth to the uppermost 
hand ; she sat in that position about half a minute, apparently suck¬ 
ing her fist; at last she threw herself back and struggled for a few 
moments, as if she was in a convulsion ; alter she rose up, she 
reached her hand across the fire to an Indian, who had the name of 
being a necromancer, he apparently took something out of her hand 
and held it close in his for a considerable time, then rose up and 
stepped out a few minutes. A few days alter they had got over 
their drunken frolic, /ie came back, after taking a smoke ol Qush- 
a-tih-ok-kil-lick-ken-eek-can , that is, tobacco and a mixture, such as 
sumac leaves, red sally bark, &c.—he drew up the edge of a deer¬ 
skin behind where she sat, when the woman reached her hand across 
the fire to him, he scraped up the earth where he drew out a leaf 
that had been folded up ; when he unfolded the leaf, he took out a 
small piece of muscle-shell, which he said was what the woman gave 
him, and that it had been fixed between my brother’s shoulders by 
a Man-nit-tooh , a spirit, or necromancer as the word signifies, which, 
he said, would undoubtedly have taken his life, had it not been taken 
off. If there was any deception in what I have related, there must 
have been several others deceived as well as myself; however, there 
was one thing I was not deceived in, that was, my brother recovered 
from that instant, and continued in perfect health until I left him, 
and that was at least four years afterwards. 

When they returned from a tour at war, I have heard them relate 
the method they took to decoy the unwary ; sometimes getting into 
wheat fields and bleating like a fawn, in order to decoy the people 
out to catch it, that they might take or kill them ; sometimes fixing 
themselves near to a house, and about break of day they would 
gobble like a turkeycock, in order to decoy men out that they might 
kill them. Sometimes they have gone to houses, where they ex¬ 
pected to meet with no resistance, in order to get information of the 
situation of the country, and after getting victuals, and the necessary 
information, they would murder their informers. 

I might have also related the many necessary precautions we have 
taken, when we were apprehensive of danger ; but I have exceeded 
the limits I prescribed in writing this narrative. I shall therefore 
close it, subscribing myself your humble servant, 

john McCullough. 


10 * 


T 


AN ACCOUNT 


OF THE CAPTIVITY OF 

RICHARD BARD, ESQ. 

Late of Franklin County, Penn, deceased, -with his Wife and Family , and others. 


COLLECTED FROM IIIS PAPERS BY HIS SON, ARCHIBALD BARD. 


My father, Richard Bard, lived in York County, now Adams, and 
owned the mill now called Marshall’* mill, in what is called 
Carroll’s tract, where, on the morning of the 13th of April, 1758, 
his house was invested by a party of nineteen Indians. They 
were discovered by a little girl called Hannah M’Bride, who wag 
at the door, and on seeing them, screamed, and ran into the house. 
At this time, there were in the house, my father, mother, and 
lieutenant Thomas Potter, (brother of general Potter) who had 
come the evening before (being a full cousin) together with a child 
of about 6 months old, and a bound boy. The Indians rushed into 
the house and one of them, with a large cutlass in his hand, made a 
blow at Potter, but he so managed it as to wrest the sword from 
the Indian, and return the blow, which would have put an end to 
his existence, had not the point struck the ceiling, which turned the 
sword so as to cut the Indian’s hand. In the mean time, Mr. Bard 
(my father) laid hold of a horseman’s pistol that hung on a nail, and 
snapped it at the breast of one of the Indians, but there being tow 
in the pan it did not go off; at this, the Indians seeing the pistol, 
ran out of the house.—By this time one of the Indians at the door 
had shot at Potter, but the ball took him only in the little finger. 
The door was now shut and secured as well as possible ; but finding 
the Indians to be very numerous, and having no powder or ball, and 
as the savages might easily burn down the house by reason of the 
thatched roof, and the quantity of mill wood piled at the back of the 
building, added to the declarations of the Indians, that they would 
not be put to death, determined them to surrender; on which a 
party of the Indians went to a field and made prisoners Samuel 
Hunter, and Daniel M’Mauimy. A lad of the name of William 
White coming to the mill, was also made a prisoner. Having 
secured the prisoners, they took all the valuable effects out of the 
house, and set fire to the mill. They then proceeded towards the 


116 


baud’s narrative. 


mountain, and my mother enquiring of the Indians who had care of 
her, was informed that they were of the Delaware nation. At the 
distance of about seventy rods from the house, contrary to all their 
promises, they put to death Thomas Potter, and having proceeded 
on the mountain about three or four miles, one of the Indians sunk 
the spear of his tomahawk into the breast of the small child, and 
after repeated blows scalped it. After crossing the mountain, they 

passed the house of Mr. Halbert T-and seeing him out, shot at 

him, but without effect. Thence, passing late in the evening 
M’Cord’s old fort, they encamped about half a mile in the gap. The 
second day, having .passed into the Path Valley, they discovered a 
party of white men in pursuit of them ; on which they ordered the 
prisoners to hasten, for should the whites come up with them, they 
should be all tomahawked. Having been thus hurried, they reached 
the top of the Tuskarora mountian and all had sat down to rest, 
when an Indian, without any previous warning, sunk a tomahawk 
into the forehead of Samuel Hunter, who was seated by my father, 
and by repeated blows put an end to his existence. He was then 
scalped, and the Indians, proceeding on their journey, encamped 
that evening some miles on the north of Sideling Hill. The next 
day they marched over the Alleghany mountain, through what is 
now called Blair’s gap. On the fifth day, whilst crossing Stoney 
Creek, the wind blew a hat of my father’s from the head of the 
Indian in whose custody he was. The Indian went down the 
stream some distance before he recovered it. In the mean time my 
father had passed the creek, but when the Indian returned, he 
severely beat my father with the gun, and almost disabled him from 
travelling any further. And now, reflecting that he could not possi¬ 
bly travel much further, and that if this was the case, he would be 
immediately put to death, he determined to attempt his escape that 
night. Two days before this, the half of my father’s head was 
painted red. 'Phis denoted that a council had been held, and that 
an equal number were for putting him to death and for keeping him 
alive, and that another council was to have taken place to determine 
the question. Being encamped, my parents, who before this had 
not liberty to speak to one another, were permitted to assist each 
other in plucking a turkey, and being thus engaged, the design of 
escaping was communicated to my mother. After some of the 
Indians had laid down, and one of them was amusing the others, 
with dressing himself with a gown of my mother’s, my father was 
called to go for water. He took a quart and emptying it of what 
water it contained, stept about six rods down to the spring. My 
mother perceiving this, succeeded so well in confining the attention 
of the Indians to the gown, that my father had get about one hundred 
yards, when the Indians from one fire, cried to those of another, 
your man is gone. They ran after him, and one having brought 
back the quart, said, here is the quart , but no man. They spent 
two davs in looking after him, while the prisoners were confined in 
the camp ; but after an unsuccessful search, they proceeded down 



bard’s narrative. 


117 


the stream to the Alleghany river, thence to fort Duquesne, now fort 
Pitt. After remaining there one night and a day, they went about 
twenty miles down the Ohio, to an Indian town, on entering which 
a squaw took a cap off my mother’s head, and with many others 
severely heather. Now almost exhausted with fatigue, she request¬ 
ed leave to remain at this place, but was told she might, if she 
preferred being scalped to proceeding. They then took her to a 
town called Cususkey. On arriving at this place, Daniel M’Manimy 
was detained outside of the town, but my mother, the two boys and 
girls, were taken into the town, at the same time having their hair 
pulled, faces scratched, and beaten in an unmerciful manner. Here 
I shall extract from my father’s papers the manner and circumstances 
of M’Manimy’s death. This account appears to have been obtained 
from my mother, shortly after her return, who received it from those 
who had been eye witnesses of the tragical scene. The Indians 
formed themselves into a circle, round the prisoner, and commenced 
by beating him ; some with sticks, and some with tomahawks. He 
was then tied to a post near a large fire, and after being tortured 
sometime with burning coals, they scalped him, and put the scalp 
on a pole to bleed before his face. A gun barrel was then heated 
red hot, and passed over his body, and with a red hot bayonet they 
pierced his body with many repetitions. In this manner they 
continued torturing him, singing and shouting, until he expired. 
Shortly after this, my mother set out from this place, leaving the 
two boys and girl, whom she never saw again, until they were 
liberated. She was now distressed beyond measure ; going she 
knew not where, without a comforter, without a companion, and 
expecting to share the fate of M’Manimy in the next town she 
would reach. In this distressed situation she met a number of 
Indians among whom was a captive woman. To her my mother 
made known her fears, on which she was informed that her life was 
not in danger, for that belt of wampum, said she, about your neck, 
is a certain sign, that you are intended for an adopted relation. 
They, soon after, arrived at a town, and being taken into the 
council-house, two squaws entered in—one stept up and struck niv 
mother on the side of the head. Perceiving that the other was 
about to follow this example, she turned her head and received a 
second blow. The warriors were highly displeased, such acts in a 
council-house being contrary to the usage- Here a chief took my 
mother by the hand, and delivered her to two Indian men, to be in 
the place of a deceased sister. She was put in charge of a squaw 
in order to be cleanly clothed. She had remained here, with her 
adopted friends near a month, when her party began to think of 
removing to the head waters of the Susquehanna, a journey of about 
two hundred miles. This was very painful to my mother, having 
already travelled above two hundred miles over mountains and 
swamps until her feet and legs were extremely swollen and sore. 
Fortunately, on the day of their setting out, a horse was given to 
her by her adopted brother ; but before they had travelled far, one of 


118 


bard’s narrative. 


the horses in the company died, when she was obliged to surrender 
hers to supply its place. After proceeding on her journey some 
miles, they were met by a number of Indians, one of whom told her 
not be discouraged, as a peace was about to take place shortly, 
when she would have leave to return home. To this information 
she was the more disposed to give credit, as it came from one who 
was a chief counsellor in the Delaware nation with whom she was 
a prisoner. Having arrived near the end of her journey, to her 
great surprise, she saw a captive dead by the road side, having been 
tomahawked and scalped. She was informed that he had endeav¬ 
oured to escape, but was overtaken at this place. On arriving at 
the place of destination, having, in all, travelled near five hundred 
miles, the fatigue which she had undergone, with cold and hunger, 
brought on a severe fit of sickness, which lasted near two months. 
In this doleful situation, having no person to comfort, or sympathize 
with her, a blanket was her only covering, and her bed was the cold 
earth, in a miserable cabin ; boiled corn was her only food. She 
was reduced to so weak a state as to consider herself as approaching 
the verge of dissolution. But recovering from her sickness, she met 
with a woman with whom she had been formerly acquainted. This 
woman had been in captivity some years, and had an Indian husband 
by whom she had one child. My mother reproved her for this, but 
received for answer, that before she had consented, they had tied her 
to a stake in order to burn her. She added, that as soon as their 
captive women could speak the Indian tongue, they were obliged to 
marry some one of them, or be put to death. This information, 
induced her to determine never to learn the Indian language, and she 
adhered to this determination all the tune she remained with them, 
from the day of her captivity to that of her releasement, a space of 
two years and five months. She was treated during this time, by 
her adopted relations, with much kindness ; even more than she 
had reason to expect. 

I shall now return to the narration of facts respecting my father, 
after he had made his escape from the Indians as before stated. 

The Indians, as soon as he was missed, gave chase. Finding him¬ 
self closely pursued, he hid in a hollow log until they had gone by 
and out of hearing, when, turning in a different direction, he resumed 
his flight. Two days, it has been said, were spent by the Indians 
in search of him ; in the mean time, with much fatigue and suffering, 
he came to a mountain four miles across, and at the top covered 
with snow. By this time he was almost exhausted, having travelled 
nearly constantly for two days and nights, and being without food, 
except a few buds plucked from the trees as he went along; his 
shoes were worn out; and the country he travelled through being 
extremely rough and in many places covered with briers of a 
poisonous nature, his feet were very much lacerated and swollen. 
To add to his difficulties the mountain was overgrown w r ith laurel, 
and the snow lodged upon its leaves so bent it down that he was 
unable in many places to get along in his weak condition, except by 


bard’s narrative. 


119 


creeping upon his hands and knees under the branches.—Three 
days had now elapsed since his escape ; and although he feared that 
the Indians were still in pursuit of him, and that by travelling along 
the mountain they would lind his tracks in the snow, and by that 
means be led to his place of concealment, yet he found himself so 
lame that he could proceed no farther. His hands also, by crawling 
upon them in the snow, became almost as much swollen as his feet. 
He was therefore compelled to lye by, without much prospect indeed 
of ever proceeding any farther on his journey. Besides the danger 
of being overtaken by his savage pursuers, he was in fact in a starv¬ 
ing condition, not having tasted food since his escape, except the 
buds already mentioned, plucked as he journeyed on lrom the bean- 
w^od or red-bud tree, as it is called. On the fifth day, however, as 
he was creeping on his hands and knees (not being able yet to walk) 
in search of buds or herbs to appease his hunger, he was fortunate 
enough to see a rattlesnake, which he killed and ate raw. After 
lying by three or four days, he allayed the swelling of his feet, by 
puncturing the festered parts with a thorn ; he then tore up his 
breeches, and with the pieces bound up his feet as well as he could. 
Thus prepared, he again set out upon his journey, limping along 
with great pain ; but he had no other alternative, except to remain 
where he was and die. He had gone but a few miles when, from a 
hill he had just ascended, he was startled by the welcome sound of 
a drum ; he called as loud as he could, but there was no one to 
answer ; it was but a delusion of the imagination. Sad and dis¬ 
appointed he journeyed on again, and on the eighth day crossed 
the Juniata by wading it, which, on account of his lameness, he 
accomplished with great difficulty. It was now night and very cold, 
and his clothes being wet, he was so benumbed that he was afraid to 
lie down lest he should perish ; and he, therefore, lame and wearied 
as he w r as, determined to pursue his journey, although it was very 
dark. Providential circumstance ! for in the course of the night as 
he wandered on, he scarcely knew whither, he was attracted by the 
sight of a fire apparently abandoned the day before, probably by a 
party of the settlers who were out in pursuit of the savages.— 
Remaining here till morning, he discovered a path leading in the 
direction of the settlements, which he followed with as much speed 
as he was able. This was the ninth day since his escape, during 
which time a few buds and four snakes were all be had to subsist on. 
In the afternoon of this day he was alarmed by suddenly meeting at 
a turn of his path three Indians; but they proved friendly, and 
instead of killing him, as he expected when he first saw them, they 
conducted him in a few hours to Fort Littleton, (in Bedford county,) 
a place well known to him, where he remained a few days, until 
sufficiently recruited in strength to proceed home. 

Some time after rnv father’s return home, he went to fort I'itt, 
which vvas then in the hands of the English, and a number of 
Indians being on the opposite side of the river, about to form a 
treaty, he one evening went over, to make enquiry concerning my 


120 


bard’s narrative. 


mother. My father observed among them several who were present 
when he was taken prisoner ; to these he discovered himself. But 
they professed not to know him, on which lie enquired of them if 
they did not recollect having been at the taking of nine persons, 
referring them to the time and place. They then acknowledged it, 
and enquired of him how he got home, &c. after which he made 
enquiry concerning my mother, but they said they knew nothing of 
her, but promised to give him some information by the time of his 
return the next day. He then returned to the fort. Shortly after 
this, a young man, who had been taken by the Indians when a child, 
followed him, and advised him not to return, tor that when he had 
left them he had heard them say, that they never had a stronger 
desire for any thing than to have sunk the tomahawk into his 
head, and that they had agreed to kill him on his return next day. 
After this man had requested my father not to mention any thing of 
his having been with him, or of the subject of their conversation, he 
returned to camp. 

I may here state that from the time that my father was taken by 
the Indians, until my mother was released, he did little else than 
wander from place to place in quest of information respecting her, 
and after he was informed where she was, his whole mind bent upon 
contriving plans for her redemption. Desiring, with this view, to 
go again to Pittsburg, he fell in with a brigade of wagons, command¬ 
ed by Mr. Irvine ; with them he proceeded as far as Bedford, but 
finding this a tedious way of travelling, he spoke to the commanding 
officer of the place to get captain White Eyes, who commanded a 
party of Indians, to promise to accompany him to Pittsburg. This 
was accordingly done, and the Indians having agreed to take him safe 
to Pitt, my father set out with them, having a horse and a new rifle. 
They had proceeded but about two miles, when an Indian turned 
off the road and took up a scalp which that morning had been taken 
off one of the wagoners. This alarmed my father not a little ; but 
having proceeded about ten miles further, the Indians again turned 
off the road, and brought several horses and a keg of whiskey which 
had been concealed. Shortly after this, the Indians began to drink 
so as to become intoxicated. White Eyes then signified to my 
father that as he had ran off from them, he would then shoot him, and 
raised his gun to take aim ; but my father, stepping behind a tree, 
ran round it while the Indian followed. This for a time gave great 
amusement to the bystanders, until a young Indian stepped up, 
twisted the gun out of the hands of White Eyes, and hid it under a 
log. The Indians became considerably intoxicated, and scattered, 
leaving White Eves with my father. White Eyes then made at 
him with a large stick, aiming at his head, but my father threw up 
his arm, and received so severe a blow as to blacken it for weeks. 
At this time an Indian of another nation, who had been sent as an 
express to Bedford, came by. Captain White Eyes applied to him 
for his gun to shoot my father, but the Indian refused, as they were 
about making peace, and the killing of my father would bring on 


bard’s narrative. 


121 


another war: (being of different nations they were obliged to speak 
in English.) By this time my father, finding himself in a desperate 
situation, resolved at all events to attempt an escape ; he said to 
captain White Eyes, our horses are going away, and went towards 
them, expecting every minute to receive a ball in his back, but on 
coming up to his horse, he got on him and took to the road ; he 
had gone but a short distance when he saw the Indian who had ta¬ 
ken the gun out of White Eyes hand sleeping at a spring, and I have 
often heard him say, had it have been any other of the Indians, he 
would have shot him. Fearing pursuit, he rode as fast as his horse 
could go, and, having travelled all night, he got to Pittsburg the next 
morning shortly after sun-rise, and he was not there more than three 
hours until the Indians were in after him : but from a fear of injury 
being done my mother, should he kill them, he suppressed his anger, 
and passed the matter by. Here he had an opportunity of writing 
her a letter, requesting her to inform her adopted friends, that if 
they would bring her in, he would pay them forty pounds. But 
having waited for an answer until lie became impatient, he bargained 
with an Indian to go and steal her away. But the night before he 
was to start he declined going, saying that he would be killed if he 
went. In this situation he resolved at all hazards to go himself and 
bring her ; for which purpose he set out and went to a place on the 
Susquehannah, I think it was called Shomoken, not far from what 
is called the Big Cherry Trees. From here he set out on an Indian 
path, along which he had travelled until evening, when he was met 
by a party of Indians who were bringing in my mother; the Indians 
past him by, and raised the war halloo—my mother felt distressed at 
their situation, and my father perceiving the Indians not to be in a 
good humor, began to promise them their pay, as he had promised 
by letter, when they would come to Shomoken, but the Indians told 
him that if he got them among the whites he would then refuse to 
pay them, and that they would then have no redress ; finding they 
were thus apprehensive, he told them to keep him as a hostage out 
in the woods and send his wife into town, and he would send an 
order for the money to be paid them, and that if it was not done 
they might do with him as they pleased. This had the desired 
effect,—they got quite good humored and brought them in, on doing 
which the money was paid agreeably to promise. Before my father 
and mother left Shomoken, he requested an Indian who had been 
an adopted brother of my mother, if ever he came down amongst 
the white people to call and see him. Accordingly, some time after¬ 
wards the Indian paid him a visit, he living then about ten miles 
from Chambersburg. The Indian having continued for some time 
with him, went to a tavern, known by the name of M’Cormack’s, 
and there became somewhat intoxicated, when a certain Newgen, 
(since executed in Carlisle for stealing horses,) having a large 
knife in his hand, struck it into the Indian’s neck, edge foremost, 
designing thereby to thrust it in between the bone and throat, and 
by drawing it forward to cut his throat, but he partly missed his 
11 


122 


bard’s narrative. 


aim, and only cut the forepart of the wind-pipe. On this New r gen 
had to escape from justice ; otherwise the law would have been put 
in force against him. And it has been remarked, that ever after he 
continued to progress in vice until his death. A physician was 
brought to attend the Indian ; the wound was sewed up, and he con¬ 
tinued at my father’s until he had recovered ; when he returned to 
his own people, who put him to death, on the pretext of his having, 
as they said, joined the white people. 

In August, 1764, (according to the best accounts of the time,) my 
father and his family, from fear of the Indians, having moved to my 
grandfather Thomas Poe’s, about three miles from his own place, 
he took a black girl with him to his own place to make some hay— 
and being there at his work, a dog which he had with him began to 
bark and run towards and from a thicket of bushes. Observing 
these circumstances he became alarmed, and taking up his gun, told 
the girl to run to the house, for he believed there were Indians near. 
So they made towards the house, and had not been there more than 
an hour, when from the loft of the house they saw a party, comman¬ 
ded by Capt. Potter, late Gen. Potter, in pursuit of a party of In¬ 
dians who had that morning murdered a school master of the name 
of Brown, with ten small children, and scalped and left for dead one 
by the name of Archibald McCullough, who recovered and was 
living not long since. It was remarkable that with but few excep¬ 
tions, the scholars were much averse to going to school that morn¬ 
ing. And the account given by McCullough is, that when the 
master and scholars met at the school, two of the scholars informed 
him that on their way they had seen Indians, but the information 
was not attended to by the master, who ordered them to their books; 
soon afterwards two old Indians and a boy rushed up to the door. 
The master seeing them, prayed them only to take his life and spare 
the children ; but unfeelingly the two old Indians stood at the door 
whilst the boy entered the house and with a piece of wood, made in 
the form of an Indian maul, killed the master and scholars, after 
which the whole of them were scalped. 


A NARRATIVE 

OF FACTS FURNISHED BY 

ROBERT ROBISON, 

Who was an eye-witness to many of the transactions related — 
was wounded at the Kittanning when it was taken by Col. 
afterwards Gen. John Armstrong , and a second time 
at the skirmish at Buffalo Creek , where two of 
his brothers fell victims to savage fury. 


He says, Sideling Hill was the first fought battle after Braddock’s 
defeat; in the year 1756, a party of Indians came out of Conoco- 
cheague, to a garrison named M’Cord’s Fort, where they killed 
some and took a number prisoners.—They then took their course 
near to Fort Littleton ; Captain Hamilton being stationed there with 
a company, hearing of their route at M’Cord’s Fort, marched with 
his company of men, having an Indian with them who was under 
pay ; this Indian led the company, came to the tracks of the In¬ 
dians, and followed them to Sideling Hill, where they found them 
with their prisoners, giving the first fire but without doing much 
damage; the Indians returned the fire, defeated our men, and killed 
a number of them ; my brother, James Robison, was among the 
slain.—The Indians had M’Cord’s wife with them ; they cut off 
Mr. James Blair’s head, and threw it in Mrs. M’Cord’s lap, saying 
that was her husband’s head; but she knew it to be Blair’s. 

The next I remember of, was in the same year, the Woolcom- 
ber family, on Shearman’s Creek ; the whole of the inhabitants 
of the valley were gathered to a fort at George Robison’s ; but 
Woolcomber would not leave home; he said it was the Irish who 
were killing one another; these peaceable people, the Indians, would 
not hurt any person. Being at home, and at dinner, the Indians 
came in, and the Quaker asked them to come and eat dinner; an 
Indian answered that he did not come to eat, but for scalps ; the son, 
a boy of 14 or 15 years of age, when he heard the Indian say so, 
repaired to a back door, and as he went out he looked back and saw 
the Indian strike the tomahawk into his father’s head. The boy 
then ran over the creek, which was near to the house, and heard the 
screams of his mother, sisters and brothers.—The boy came to our 



124 


robison’s narrative. 


fort and gave us the alarm,—about forty went to where the murder 
was done and buried the dead. 

In the month of September, 1757, Col. John Armstrong, with 
307 men, went to Kittanning, undiscovered until we came to a place 
called the Forty Mile Lick, where the Indians trimmed the hair of 
the prisoners.—We lay there on Saturday night; the next morning 
the Colonel ordered two of our guides to spy the town; they went, 
and brought back word that the Indians were there.—The names of 
the spies were Thomas Barke and Janies Chalmers, both old tra¬ 
ders.— We marched from that place to the town that day and night. 

When we came within about six miles of the town, we observed 
a fire; our Colonel ordered two men to go and spy how many In¬ 
dians there were at the tire ; accordingly they went, but could see 
only four, the rest had lain down and could not be seen. The 
Colonel left Lieut. Hoge, with twelve men, to fight these supposed 
four ; whereas the prisoners give the account, that there was twen¬ 
ty-five Indians sent out to kill meat for the company that was to be 
there next night, consisting of 150, destined for Virginia. These 
twelve men and their officer, crawled near the Indians before day- 
ore ak. An Indian came towards them and was like to come too 
near, the Indian not knowing any thing of them ; these men fired at 
this Indian, but missed him, when all the Indians ran from the fire 
ind left their guns standing at a rack, which they commonly have. 
Our men standing, and not laying hold of the Indians’ guns, gave 
them time to return for their guns, and commence a battle. Out of 
which party the Indians killed the Lieutenant and five men, and 
wounded two others. Shortly after they began, we began at the 
town, and they heard our firing which discouraged the Indians 
greatl)'-; our people telling them, your town is on fire, you dogs 
you : our people got off, and the Indians did not follow them as 
they would have done. When the Indian magazine blew up in the 
town, they ceased firing a considerable time, which report was heard 
at Fort Pitt. A boy of the name of Crawford, told afterwards, that 
be was up at the Kittanning the next day, with some French and 
Indians, and found Captain Jacobs, his squaw and son, with some 
others. 

The form in which we made the attack was : our captains stood 
all in rank, each company behind their captain ; the word was given, 
every man do for himself; we rushed down to the town, the Indians’ 
dogs barked, and the first house we came to, the Indian came out, 
and held his hand, as shading the light from his eyes, looking to¬ 
wards us until there were five guns fired at him ; he then ran, and 
'with a loud voice called shewanick , which signifies white men; 
there was in the house a young woman, a prisoner, who came out 
wfith both her hands raised up, but the guns were firing so fast she 
got frightened, and ran back to the house again, where she got a 
grain of swan shot through her arm ; she then made out a second 
time and was received by us; the Indians being then alarmed, were 
running through the cornfield ; they fired on us, but to no purpose ; 


robison’s narrative. 


125 


we rushed into the town, and they all left it except Captain Jacobs, 
his squaw, son, and one called by the traders Pisquetum, and some 
others that were blown up with their magazine ; we relieved five 
prisoners, besides the young woman which we first took, she was 
re-taken when Captain Mercer’s company was broken, which 1 shall 
give you an account of. 

When we had ended our tragedy in the town, we then prepared 
for the road, we had six killed, and six wounded, our Colonel was 
among the wounded; before the Indians gave up, the Colonel says, 
is there none of you lads, that will set fire to these rascals that have 
wounded me, and killed so many of our men? John Ferguson, a 
soldier, swore that he would ; he goes to a house covered with 
bark, and takes a slice of bark which had fire on it, he rushes up to 
the cover of Jacobs’ house and held it there until it had burned about 
one yard square, then lie ran, and the lndiens fired at him—the 
smoke blew about his legs but the shot missed him ; all eyes were 
upon the magazine, watching when these fellows would come forth ; 
they remained until their guns took fire, and went off like a platoon ; 
their magazine blew up at the same time; then Jacobs and those 
before mentioned sprang out, Jacobs’ squaw wielded a tomahawk 
round her head before she jumped the fence; Jacobs fell first, then 
his wife, and then his son, in proportion seven feet high. We were 
then preparing to leave the town, when Captain Mercer, who had 
his right arm broken in the town—his company was chiefly com¬ 
posed of traders, who persuaded their captain that there would not 
one living man of us ever get home, and if he, Capt. Mercer, would 
go with them, they would take him a near cut—accordingly all his 
company went with him but Sergeant Brown, and twelve men ; the 
Captain, however, and his men, unfortunately fell in with the In¬ 
dians that Lieut. Hoge had been fighting with that morning; they 
fell upon his company and broke it, killing about twenty men ; 
Captain Mercer having a horse, Thomas Burke, ensign Scott and 
he, drove to the road that we had gone along ; there the Captain’s 
arm broke loose, and he was forced to stop and dress it; he became 
faint; in the mean time they espied an Indian coming from following 
us ; Burke and Scott mounted Mercer’s horse and rode off, leaving 
him to his fate; but Mercer lay down behind a log, it happening to 
be thick of weeds, the Indian came about six feet from him, and 
seeing Burke and Scott riding, he gave out a halloo and ran after; in 
a short time Mercer heard two guns go off; he then went down 
through a long plumb bottom, and lay there until night, when he 
made the best of his way. It was at the time of the plumbs being 
ripe, but that did not last long enough, for the Captain had a month 
to struggle with, before he got home,—all the food he got after the 
plumbs were done, was one rattle snake, and had to eat that raw. 
On the north side of the Allegheny mountain, he saw one day what 
he thought to be an Indian, and the other saw him ; both took trees 
and stood a long time ; at last the Captain thought lie would go for¬ 
ward and meet his fate, but when he came near, he found it to be 
11 * 


126 


robison’s narrative.. 


one of his own men ; both rejoiced to meet, and both in that situa¬ 
tion scarcely able to walk; they pushed over the mountain, and were 
not far from Frankstown, when the soldier lay down, unable to go 
any further, with an intention never more to rise. The Captain 
went about seven miles, when he also lay down, giving up all hopes 
of ever getting home. At this time there was a company of Chero¬ 
kee Indians in king’s pay, and being at Fort Littleton Captain 
Hamilton sent some of them to search along the foot of the Alle¬ 
gheny mountain to see if there were any signs of Indians on that 
route, and these Indians cam' upon Captain Mercer, able to rise; 
they gave him food, and he told them of the other; they took the 
Captain’s track and found him, and brought him to Fort Littleton, 
carrying him on a bier of their own making. We took fourteen 
scalps in this expedition. 

As for our retreating from the Kittanning, we met with no oppo¬ 
sition, only a few Indians on this side of the town fired on us ; they 
shot about two hundred yards, and shot Andrew Douglas through 
both ancles. We had no more injury done until we came to this 
side of the Allegheny mountain, when one Samuel Chambers, 
having left his coat at the Clear Fields, desired leave of Colonel 
Armstrong to go back for his coat, and to bring three horses which 
had given out; Colonel Armstrong advised against it, but Cham¬ 
bers insisted on going, and so went back ; when he came to the 
top of the mountain, a party of Indians fired on him but missed him ; 
Chambers then steered towards Big Island, the Indians pursued and 
the third day killed him on French Margaret’s Island. So the 
Indians told old Captain Patterson. 

The next was General Boquet, the second war, when the Indians 
thought they were able to kill and take us all themselves, the 
French being bound by the last treaty of peace not to supply the 
Indians with powder and lead, the Indians not knowing this until 
they were in need of ammunition. They however did much mis¬ 
chief; they fought Boquet at Bushy Run, but were defeated. At 
this time Boquet went dowm the Ohio seventy-five miles below Fort 
Pitt, and sent one David Owens, who had been married to an Indian 
woman, and had by her three children, when taking a thought that 
he would advance himself, killed and scalped his wife and children 
and brought their scalps to Philadelphia; he received no reward, 
but was made ambassador between General Boquet and the 
Indians. 

When Owens was sent to let the Indians know they might have 
peace, they made a prisoner of him, for the murder he had commit¬ 
ted, two of his wife’s brothers being there; Owens gave them to 
know, if they killed him they would never get peace. 

The Indians held council three days upon him ; they then let him 
go and came up themselves, agreeably to the invitation which was 
sent to them, and agreed to give up the prisoners. So ended that 
campaign. 

In this second war, on the fifth day of July, 1763, the Indians 


robison’s narrative. 


127 


came to Juniata, it being harvest time, and the white people were 
come hack to reap their crops ; they came first to the house of Win. 
White; it was on the Sabbath day; the reapers were all in the 
house ; the Indians crept up nigh to the door and shot the people 
lying on the floor, and killed \Vm. White, and all his family that 
were there, excepting one boy, who, when he heard the guns, leaped 
out of the window and made his escape. 

This same party went to Robert Campbell’s on the Tnscarora 
creek, surprised them in the same way, shot them on the floor where 
they were resting themselves; one George Dodds being there harvest¬ 
ing, had just risen, and gone into the room and lay down on the 
bed, setting his gun beside him. When the Indians fired, one of 
them sprung into the house with his tomahawk in his hand, running 
up to where a man was standing in the corner; Dodds fired at the 
Indian not six feet from him, the Indian gave a halloo and ran out 
as fast as he could : there being an open in the loft above the bed, 
Dodds sprung up there and went out by the chimney, making his es¬ 
cape, and came to Shearman’s Valley ; he came to William Dickson’s 
and told what had happened, there being a young man there which 
brought the news to us, who were harvesting at Edward Elliott’s ; 
other intelligence we got in the night; John Graham, John Christy 
and James Christy, were alarmed in the evening by guns firing at 
William Anderson’s, where the old man was killed with his Bible in 
his hand ; supposed he was about worship ; his son also was killed, 
and a girl that had been brought up from a child by the old people ; 
Graham and the Christys came about midnight; we hearing the 
Indians had got so far up the Tuscarora Valley, and knowing Colliu’s 
family and James Scott’s were there about harvest, twelve of us con¬ 
cluded to go over Bigham’s gap and give those word that were there; 
when we came to Collins’s we saw that the Indians had been there, 
had broke a wheel, emptied a bed, and taken flour, of which they 
made some water gruel; we counted thirteen spoons made of bark ; 
we followed the tracks down to James Scotts, where we found the 
Indians had killed some fowls; we pursued on to Graham’s, there 
the house was on fire, and burned down to the v joists ; we divided 
our men into two parlies, six in each, my brother with his party 
came in behind the barn, and myself with the other party came down 
through an oats field; I was to shoot first, the Indians had hung a 
coat upon a post, on the other side of the fire from us, I looked at 
it, and saw it immovable, and therefore walked down to it and found 
that the Indians had just left it; they had killed four hogs and had 
eaten at pleasure ; our company took their tracks, and found that two 
companies had met at Graham’s and had gone over the Tuscarora 
mountian. We look the run gap ; the two roads meeting at Nichol¬ 
son’s, they were there first, heard us coming and lay in ambush for 
us ; they had the first fire; being twenty-five in number, and only 
twelve 16 of us ; they killed five, and wounded myself. They then 

* The names of the twelve were William Robison, who acted as captain, Robert 
Robison, the relator of this narrative, Thomas Robison, being three brothers, John 


128 


robison’s narrative. 


went to Alexander Logan’s, where they emptied some beds, and 
passed on to George M’Cords. 

A party of forty men came from Carlisle, in order to bury the 
dead at Juniata, when they saw the dead at Buffalo creek they 
returned home ; then a party of men came with captain Dunning, 
but before they came to Alexander Logan, his son John, Charles 
Coyle, William Hamilton, with Bartholomew Davis, followed the 
Indians to George M’Cord’s, where they were in the barn ; Logan, 
and these with him were all killed, except Davis, who made his 
escape. The Indians then returned to Logan’s house again, where 
captain Dunning and his party came on them and they fired some 
time at each other; Dunning had one man wounded. 

I forgot to give you an account of a murder done at our own fort 
in Shearman’s valley, in July 1756, the Indians waylaid the fort in 
harvest time and kept quiet until the reapers were gone ; James 
Wilson remaining some time behind the rest, and I not being gone 
to my business, which was hunting deer, for the use of the company, 

Graham , Charles Elliott, William Christy, James Christy, David Miller, John Elliott, 
Edward JWConnel, William JYVAlister, and John JYicholson : the persons killed 
were William Robison, who was shot in the belly with buck shot and got about half 
a mile from the ground ; John Elliot, then a boy of about seventeen years of age ; 
having emptied his gun, he was pursued by an Indian with his tomahawk, who was 
within a few perches of him, when Elliott had poured some powder into his gun by 
random, out of his power horn, and having a bullet in his mouth, put it in the 
muzzle, but had no time to ram it down; he turned and fired at his pursuer, who 
clapped his hand on his stomach and cried, och ! then turned and fled. Elliott had ran 
but a few perches farther, when he overtook William Robison, weltering in his 
blood, in his last agonies; he requested Elliott to carry him off, who excused him¬ 
self, by telling him of his inability to do so, and also of the danger they were in; he 
said he kuew it, but desired him to take his gun with him, and, peace or war, if ever 
he had an opportunity of an Indian, to shoot him for his sake. Elliott brought away 
the gun, and Robison was not found by the Indians. 

Thomas Robison stood on the ground until the whole of his people were fled, nor 
did the Indians offer to pursue, until the last man left the field ; Thomas having fired 
and charged a second time, the Indians were prepared for him, and when he took 
aim past the tree, a number fired at him at the same time; one of his arms was 
broken, he took hisgun in the other and fled, going up a hill he came to a high log, 
and clapped his hand, in which was his gun, on the log to assist in leaping over it, 
while in the attitude of stooping, a bullet entered his side, going in a triangular course 
through his body, he sunk down across the log; the Indians sunk the cock of his gun 
into his brains, and mangled him very much. John Graham w^as seen by David 
Miller sitting on a log, not far from the place of attack, with his hands on his face, 
and the blood running through his fingers. Charles Elliott and Edward M’Connell 
took a circle round where the Indians were laying, and made the best of their way 
to Buffalo creek, hut they were pursued by the Indians, and w here they crossed 
the creek there was a high bank, and as they were endeavouring to ascend the 
bank they were both shot, and fell back into the water. 

Thus ended this unfortunate affair to those engaged, but at the same time it 
appears as if the hand of Povidence had been in the whole transaction; for there 
is every reason to believe, that spies had been viewing the place the night before, 
and the Indians were within three quarters of a mile of the place from which the 
men had started, where there w'ould have been from twenty to thirty men, perhaps 
in the field reaping, and all the guns that could be depended on were in this 
small company except one, so that they might have become an easy prey, and instead 
ol those five^ brave men, who lost their lives, three times that number might have 
suffered. 7 he two Christy’s were out about a week, before they could make their 
escape ; ihe Indians one night passed so nigh to them, that they could have touched 
them with their guns. 


robison’s narrative. 


129 


"Wilson standing at the fort gate, I desired liberty to shoot his gun 
at a mark, upon which he gave me the gun, and 1 shot; the Indians 
on the upper side of the fort, thinking they were discovered, rushed 
on a daughter of Robert Miller, and instantly killed her, and shot 
at John Simmeson ; they then made the best of it that they could, 
and killed the wife of James Wilson* and the widow Gibson, and 
took Hugh Gibson and Betsey Henry prisoners ; the reapers, being 
forty in number, returned to the fort and the Indians made off. 

I shall relate an affair told me by James M’Clung, a man whom I 
can confide in for truth, it being in his neighbourhood. An Indian 
came to a tavern, called for a gill of whiskey, drank some out of it; 
when there came another Indian in, he called for a gill also, and set 
it on the table, without drinking any of it, and took out the first 
Indian, discoursing with him for some time; the first Indian then 
stripped himself naked, and lay down on the floor, and stretched 
himself, the other stood at the door, and when he was ready, he 
stepped forward with his knife in his hand, and stabbed the Indian 
who was lying down, to the heart; he received the stab, jumped to 
his feet, drank both the gills of whisky off, and dropped down dead ; 
the white people made a prisoner of the other Indian, and sent to 
the heads of the nation; two of them came and examined the Indian, 
who was prisoner, and told them to let him go, he had done right. 

Sir, yours, &c. 

ROBERT ROBISON. 

• While the Indian M as scalping Mrs. Wilson, the relator shot at and wounded 
him, but he made his escape. 



THE 

NARRATIVE OF Dr. KN1UHT.* 


About the latter end of the month of March, or the beginning of 
April, of the year 1782, the western Indians began to make 
incursions upon the frontiers of Ohio, Washington, Youghagany, 
and Westmoreland counties. In consequence of these predatory 
invasions, the principal officers of the above mentioned counties, 
namely, Colonels Williamson and Marshall, tried every method in 
their power to set on foot an expedition against the Wyandot towns, 
which they could effect no other way than by giving all possible 
encouragement to volunteers. The plan proposed was as follows : 
Every man furnishing himself with a horse, a gun, and one month’s 
provision, should be exempted from two tours of militia duty. Like¬ 
wise that every one who had been plundered by the Indians should, 
if the plunder could be found at their towns, have it again by proving 
it to be his property: and all horses lost on the expedition, by 
unavoidable accidents, were to be replaced by horses taken in the 
enemy’s country. 


* The following extract from a letter by Judge II. II. Brackenridge to a former 
publisher, will explain one circumstance in this relation. It is given for the purpose 
also of pointing out the authorship of this and the three next succeeding narratives, 
and of vouching for their truth. 

“Sir: —Agreeably to yourrequest, I have collected and send you the relations of 
Slover and Knight, which appeared in the papers subsequent to Crawfords ex¬ 
pedition, to which they relate. That of Slover I took down from his own mouth; 
that of Knight I think he wrote himself and gave it to me. I saw Knight on his 
being brought into the garrison at Pittsburg; he was weak and scarcely able to 
articulate. When he began to be able to speak a little, his Scottish dialect was 
much broader than it had been when I knew him before. This I remarked as usual 
with persons in a fever, or sick, they return to the vernacular tongue of their early 
years. It was three weeks before he was able to give any thing like a continued 
account of his sufferings. 

After a treaty or temporary peace had taken place, I saw traders who had been 
with the Indians at Sandusky, and had the same account from the Indians themselves 
which Knightgavc of his escape, but the Indian who had him in charge had magnified 
the stature and bulk of the body of Knight to save his credit; but was laughed at by 
the Indians who knew him to he a weak, feeble man, which was the reason that a 
guard of one Indian had been thought sufficient The reason of the gun not going 
off, was that the Indian had plugged it, as usually done, to keep the wet from enter¬ 
ing the touch-hole. The Indians confirmed the account of Slover in all particulars, 
save as to the circumstance of his escape, which they said was w ith the assistance of 
the Squaws. The story of the lame Indian, and of the trial of Mamachtaga is 
extracted from a memorandum made at the lime.” 


130 


knight’s narrative. 


The time appointed for the rendezvous, or general meeting of the 
volunteers, was fixed to be on the 20th of May, and the place, the 
old Mingo town on the west side of the river Ohio, about 40 miles 
below Fort Pitt, by land, and I think about 75 by water. 

Col. Crawford was solicited by the general voice of these western 
counties and districts to command the expedition. He accordingly 
set out as volunteer and came to Fort Pitt two days before the time 
appointed for the assembling of the men. As there was no surgeon 
yet appointed to go with the expedition, colonel Crawford begged 
the favour of Gen. Irving to permit me to accompany him, (my 
consent having been previously asked) to which the General agreed, 
provided Colonel Gibson did not object. 

Having obtained permission of the Colonel, I left Fort Pitt on 
Tuesday, May 1st, and the next day, about one in the afternoon, 
arrived at the Mingo bottom. The volunteers had not all crossed 
the river until Friday morning the 24th; they then distributed 
themselves into eighteen companies, choosing their captains by vote. 
There were chosen also, one colonel commandant, four field and 
one brigade major. There were four hundred and sixty-five who 
voted. 

We began our march on Saturday, May 25th, making almost a 
due west course, and on the fourth day reached the old Moravian 
town, upon the river Muskingum, about 60 miles from the river 
Ohio. Some of the men, having lost their horses on the night 
preceding, returned home. 

Tuesdayfthe 28th in the evening, Major Brenton and Captain Bean 
went some distance from camp to reconnoitre: having gone about 
one quarter of a mile, they saw two Indians, upon whom they fired, 
and then returned to camp. This was the first place in which we 
were discovered, as we understood afterwards. 

On Thursday the fourth of June, which was the eleventh day of 
our march, about 1 o’clock we came to the spot where the town of 
Sandusky formerly stood : the inhabitants had moved 18 milesjlower 
down the creek, near the lower Sandusky : but as neither our guides 
or any who were with us, had known any thing of their removal, 
we began to conjecture there were no Indian towns nearer than the 
lower Sandusky, which was at least forty miles distant. 

However, after refreshing our horses, we advanced on in search 
of some of their sattlements, but had scarcely got the distance of 
three or four miles from the old town, when a number of our men 
expressed their desire to return, some of them alledging that they 
had only five days’ provision : upon which the field officers and 
captains determined, in council, to proceed that afternoon. Previous 
to the calling of this council, a small party of light horse had been 
sent forward to reconnoitre. 

I shall here remark, by the way, that there are a great many 
extensive plains in the country: The woods in general grew very 
thin, free from brush and underwood ; so that light horsemen may 
advance a considerable distance before an army without being much 
exposed to the enemy. 


knioiit’s narrative. 


131 


Just as the council ended, an express returned from the above 
mentioned party of light horse, with intelligence “ that they had 
been about three miles in front, and had seen a large body of Indians 
running towards them.” In a short time we saw the rest of the 
light horse, who joined us, and having gone one mile further, met 
a number of Indians who had partly got possession of a piece of 
woods before us, whilst we were in the plains, but our men, alight¬ 
ing from their horses and rushing into the woods, soon obliged them 
to abandon that place. 

The enemy being by this time reinforced, flanked to the right, 
and part of them coming in our rear, quickly made the action more 
serious. The firing continued very warm on both sides, from four 
o’clock until the dusk of the evening, each party maintaining their 
ground. Next morning, about six o’clock, some guns were dis¬ 
charged at the distance of two or three hundred yards, which con¬ 
tinued till day, doing little or no execution on either side. 

The field officers then assembled and agreed, as the enemy were 
every moment increasing, and we had already a number wounded, 
to retreat that night. The whole body was to form into three lines, 
keeping the wounded in the centre. We had four killed and twenty- 
three wounded: of the latter, seven were dangerously, on which 
account as many biers were got ready to carry them ; most of the 
rest were slightly wounded, and none so badly but that they could 
ride on horseback. After dark the officers went on the out-posts 
and brought in all the men as expeditiously as they could. Just as 
the troops were about to form, several guns were fired by the enemy, 
upon which some of our men spoke out and said, our intention was 
discovered by the Indians, who were firing alarm guns.—Upon 
which, some in front hurried off and the rest immediately followed, 
leaving the seven men that were dangerously wounded, some of 
whom, however, got off on horseback, by means of some good 
friends, who waited for and assisted them. 

We had not got a quarter of a mile from the field of action, when 
I heard Col. Crawford calling for his son John Crawford, his son- 
in-law Major Harrison, Major Rose and William Crawford, his 
nephews, upon which I came up and told him I believed they were 
before us.—He asked, is that the doctor ?—I told him it was.—He 
then replied, that they were not in front, and begged of me not to 
leave him—I promised him I would not. 

We then waited, and continued calling for these men till the 
troops had passed us. The Colonel told me his horse had almost 
given out, that he could not keep up with the troops, and wished 
some of his best friends to remain with him : he then exclaimed 
against the militia for riding off in such an irregular manner, and 
leaving some of the wounded behind, contrary to his orders.— 
Presently there came two men riding after us, one of them an old 
man, the other a lad : we enquired if they had seen any of the above 
persons, and they answered they had not. 

By this time there was a very hot firing before us, and, as wo 
12 


132 


knight’s narrative. 


judged, near where our main body must have been. Our course 
was then nearly south-west, but changing it, we went north about 
two miles, the two men remaining in company with us. Judging 
ourselves to be now out of the enemy’s lines, we took a due east 
course, taking care to keep at the distance of fifteen or twenty yards 
apart, and directing ourselves by the north star. 

The old man often lagged behind, and when this was the case 
never failed to call for us to halt for him. When we were near the 
Sandusky Creek, he fell one hundred yards behind, and cried out, 
as usual, for us to halt. While we were preparing to reprimand 
him for making a noise, I heard an Indian halloo, as I thought, one 
hundred and fifty yards from the man, and partly behind him ; after 
this we did not hear the man call again, neither did he ever come 
up to us any more. It was now past midnight, and about day-break 
Col. Crawford’s and the young man’s horses gave out, and they left 
them. We pursued our journey eastward, and about two o’clock 
fell in with Capt. Biggs, who had carried Liet. Ashly from the field 
of action, who had been dangerously wounded. We then went on 
about the space of an hour, when a heavy rain coming on, we con¬ 
cluded it was best to encamp, as we were encumbered with the 
wounded officer. We then barked four or five trees, made an en¬ 
campment and afire, and remained there all that night. Next morn¬ 
ing we again prosecuted our journey, and having gone about three 
miles found a deer which had been recently killed. The meat was 
sliced from the bones and bundled up in the skin with a tomahawk 
lying by it. We carried all with us, and in advancing abont one 
mile further, espied the smoke of a fire. We then gave the woun¬ 
ded officer into the charge of the young man, desiring him to stay 
behind, whilst the Colonel, the Captain and myself, walked up as 
cautiously as we could toward the fire. When we came to it, we 
concluded, from several circumstances, some of our people had en¬ 
camped there the preceding night. We then went about roasting 
the venison, and when just about to march, observed one of our men 
coming upon our tracks. He seemed at first very shy, but having 
called to him he came up and told us he was the person who had 
killed the deer, but upon hearing us come up, was afraid of Indians, 
hid in a thicket and made off.—Upon this we gave him some bread 
and roasted venison, proceeded together on our journey, and about 
two o’clock came upon the paths by which we had gone out. Capt. 
Biggs and myself did not think it safe to keep the road, but the 
Colonel said the Indians would not follow the troops farther than 
the plains, which we were then considerably past. As the wounded 
officer rode Capt. Biggs’ horse, I lent the Captain mine; the Colo¬ 
nel and myself went about one hundred yards in front, the Captain 
and the wounded officer in the centre, and the two young men be¬ 
hind. After we had travelled about one mile and a half, several 
Indians started up within fifteen or twenty steps of the Colonel and 
I. As we at first discovered only three, I immediately got behind a 
large black oak, made ready my piece and raised it up to take sight, 


knight’s narrative. 


133 


'when the Colonel called to me twice not to fire; upon that one of 
the Indians ran up to the Colonel and took him by the hand. The 
Colonel then told me to put down my gun, which I did. At that 
instant one of them came up to me, whom I had formerly seen very 
often, calling me doctor, and took me by the hand. They were 
Delaware Indians of the Wingenim tribe. Captain Biggs fired 
amongst them, but did no execution. They then told us, to call 
these people and make them come there, else they would go and 
kill them, which the Colonel did, but they four got off and escaped 
for that time. The Colonel and I were then taken to the Indian 
camp, which was about half a mile from the place where we were 
captured. On Sunday evening, five Delawares, who had posted 
themselves at some distance further on the road, brought back to the 
camp, where we lay, Capt. Biggs and Lieut. Ashley’s scalps, with 
an Indian scalp which Capt. Biggs had taken in the field of action: 
they also brought in Biggs’ horse and mine; they told us the two 
other men got away from them. 

Monday morning, the tenth of June, we were paraded to march 
to Sandusky, about 33 miles distant: they had eleven prisoners of 
us and four scalps, the Indians being seventeen in number. 

Col. Crawford was very desirous to see a certain Simeon Girty, 
who lived among the Indians, and was on this account permitted to 
go to town the same night, with two warriors to guard him, having 
orders at the same time to pass by the place where the Colonel had 
turned out his horse, that they might, if possible, find him.—The 
rest of us were taken as far as the old town, which was within eight 
miles of the new. 

Tuesday morning, the 11th, Col. Crawford was brought out to 
us on purpose to be marched in with the other prisoners. I asked 
the Colonel if he had seen Mr. Girty ?—He told me he had, and 
that Girty had promised to do every thing in his power for him, 
but that the Indians were very much enraged against the prisoners ; 
particularly Capt. Pipe, one of the chiefs ; he likewise told me that 
Girty had informed him that his son-in-law, Col. Harrison, and his 
nephew, William Crawford, were made prisoners by the Shawanese, 
but had been pardoned. This Captain Pipe had come from the 
towns about an hour before Col. Crawford, and had painted all the 
presoners’ faces black. 

As he was painting me, he told me I should go to the Shawanese 
towns and see my friends. When the Colonel arrived lie painted 
him black also, told him he was glad to see him, and that he would 
have him shaved when he came to see his friends at the Wyandot 
town. When we marched, the Colonel and I were kept back be¬ 
tween Pipe and Wyngenim, the two Delaware chiefs, the other nine 
prisoners were sent forward with a party of Indians. As we went 
along we saw four of the prisoners lying by the path tomahawked 
and scalped, some of them were at the distance of half a mile from 
each other. When we arrived within half a mile of the place where 
the Colonel was executed, we overtook the five prisoners that 


134 


knight’s narrative. 


remained alive: the Indians had caused them to sit down on the 
ground, as they did, also the Colonel and myself, at some distance 
from them ; I was there given in charge to an Indian fellow to be 
taken to the Shawanese towns. 

In the place where we were now made to sit down, there was 
a number of squaws and boys, who fell on the five prisoners and 
tomahawked them. There was a certain John McKinley amongst 
the prisoners, formerly an officer in the 13th Virginia Regiment, 
whose head an old squaw cut off, and the Indians kicked it about 
upon the ground. The young Indian fellows came often where the 
Colonel and 1 were, and dashed the scalps in our faces. We were 
then conducted along toward the place where the Colonel was after¬ 
wards executed : when we came within about half a mile of it, Sim¬ 
eon Girty met us, with several Indians on horseback; he spoke to 
the Colonel, but as I was about one hundred and fifty yards behind, 
could not hear vvhat passed between them. 

Almost every Indian we met struck us either with sticks or their 
fists. Girty waited till I was brought up, and then asked, was that 
the doctor?—I answered him yes, and went towards him, reaching 
out my hand, but he bid me begone, and called me a damned rascal; 
upon which the fellow who had me in charge, pulled me along.— 
Girty rode up after me and told me I was to go to the Shawanese 
towns. 

When we were come to the fire, the Colonel was stripped naked, 
ordered to p it down by the fire, and then they beat him with sticks 
and their fists. Presently after, I was treated in the same manner. 
They then tied a rope to the foot of a post about fifteen feet high, 
bound the Colonel’s hands behind his back and fastened the rope to 
the ligature between his wrists. The rope was long enough either 
for him to sit down or to walk round the post once or twice and re¬ 
turn the same way. The Colonel then called to Girty and asked if 
they intended to burn him ?—Girty answered yes. The Colonel 
said he would take it all patiently. Upon this Captain Pipe, a Del¬ 
aware chief, made a speech to the Indians, consisting of about thirty 
or forty men, and sixty or seventy squaws and boys. 

When the speech was finished, they all yelled a hideous and 
hearty assent to what had been said. The Indian men then took 
up their guns and shot powder into the Colonel’s body, from his feet 
as far up as his neck. I think not less than seventy loads were 
discharged upon his naked body. They then crowded about him, 
and to the best of my observation, cut off his ears : when the throng 
had dispersed a little, I saw the blood running from both sides of 
his head in consequence thereof. 

The fire was about six or seven yards from the post to which the 
Colonel was tied : it was made of small hickory poles, burnt quite 
thro’ in the middle, each end of the poles remaining about six feet 
in length. Three or four Indians, by turns, would take up, individ¬ 
ually, one of these burning pieces of wood and apply it to his naked 
body, already burned black with the powder. These tormentors 





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knight’s narrative. 


135 


presented themselves on every side of him, so that which ever way 
he ran round the post they met him with the burning faggots and 
poles. Some of the squaws took broad boards, upon which they 
would put a quantity of burning coals and hot embers and throw 
them on him, so that in a short time he had nothing but coals of fire 
and hot ashes to walk upon. 

In the midst of these extreme tortures he called to Simeon Girty 
and begged of him to shoot him : but Girty making no answer he 
called to him again.—Girty then, by way of derision, told the 
Colonel he had no gun, at the same time turning about to an Indian 
who was behind him, he laughed heartily, and by all his gestures 
seemed delighted at the horrid scene. 

Girty then came up to me and bade me prepare for death. He 
said, however, I was not to die at that place, but to be burnt at the 
Shawanese towns. He swore by G—d I need not expect to escape 
death, but should suffer it in all its extremities. 

He then observed that some prisoners had given him to understand 
that if our people had him they would not hurt him ; for his part, 
he said, he did not believe it, but desired to know my opinion of 
the matter ; but being at that time in great anguish and distress for 
the torments the Colonel was suffering before my eyes, as well as 
the expectation of undergoing the same fate in two days, I made 
little or no answer.—He expressed a great deal of ill will for Colonel 
Gibson, and said he was one of his greatest enemies, and more to 
the same purpose, to all which I paid very little attention. 

Colonel Crawford at this period of his sufferings, besought the 
Almighty to have mercy on his soul, spoke very low, and bore his 
torments with the most manly fortitude. He continued in all the 
extremities of pain for an hour and three quarters, or two hours 
longer, as near as I can judge, w r hen at last being almost spent, he 
lay down on his belly : they then scalped him and repeatedly threw 
the scalp in my face telling me “ that was my great captain.”—Ail 
old squaw (whose appearance every way answered the ideas people 
entertain of the devil) got a board, took a parcel of coals and ashes 
and laid them on his back and head after he had been scalped ; he 
then raised himself upon his feet and began to walk round the post: 
they next put a burning stick to him as usual, but he seemed more 
insensible of pain than before. 

The Indian fellow who had me in charge, now took me away to 
captain Pipe’s house, about three quarters of a mile from the place 
of the Colonel’s execution.—I was bound all night, and thus 
prevented from seeing the last of the horrid spectacle. Next morn¬ 
ing, being June I2th, the Indian untied me, painted me black, and 
we set off for the Shawanese town, which he told me was somewhat 
less than forty miles from that place. We soon came to the spot 
where the Colonel had been burnt, as it w r as partly in our way; I 
saw his bones laying amongst the remains of the fire, almost burnt 
to ashes ; I suppose after he was dead they had laid his body on the 
fire. 


12 * 


136 


knight’s narrative. 


The Indian told me, that was my Big Captain, and gave the scalp 
halloo. He was on horseback and drove me before him. 

I pretended to this Indian I was ignorant of the death I was to die 
at the Shawanese town, affected as cheerful a countenance as possi¬ 
ble, and asked him if we were not to live together, as brothers in 
one house, when we should get to the town ? He seemed well 
pleased, and said, yes.—Tie then asked me if I could make a 
wigwam!—I told him I could—he then seemed more friendly ,—we 
went that day, as near as I can judge, about 25 miles, the course 
partly south-west.—The Indian told me we should next day come 
to the town, the sun being in such a direction, pointing nearly south. 
At night, when we went to rest, I attempted very olten to untie my¬ 
self, but the Indian was extremely vigilant, and seldomly shut his 
eyes that night.—About day break he got up and untied me : he next 
began to mend up the fire, and as the gnats were troublesome, I 
asked him if I should make a smoke behind him ?—He said, yes.— 
I then took the end of a dogwood fork which had been burnt down 
to about 18 inches long—it was the longest stick I could find, yet 
too small for the purpose I had in view—then I picked up another 
smaller stick and taking a coal of fire between them went behind 
him—then turning suddenly about, I struck him on the head with 
all the force I was master of; which so stunned him that he fell 
forwards with both his hands into the fire, but seeing him recover 
and get up, I seized his gun while he ran off howling in a most 
fearful manner—I followed him with a determination to shoot him 
down, but pulling back the cock of the gun with too great violence I 
believe I broke the main-spring. I pursued him, however, about 
thirty yards, still endeavouring to fire the gun, but could not; then 
going back to the fire I took his blanket, a pair of new moccasons, 
his hoppes, powder-horn, bullet-bag, (together with the gun) and 
marched off, directing my course toward the five o’clock mark. 
About half an hour before sunset I came to the plains which I think 
are about sixteen miles wide.—i laid me down in a thicket till dark 
and then, by the assistance of the north star, made my way through 
them and got into the woods before morning. I proceeded on the 
next day and about noon, crossed the paths by which our troops had 
gone out; these paths are nearly east and west, but I went due north 
all that afternoon, with a view to avoid the enemy. 

In the evening-I began to be very faint, and no wonder; I had 
been six days prisoner, the last two days of which I had eat nothing', 
and but very little the first three or four; there were wild gooseberries 
in abundance in the woods, but being unripe required mastication, 
which at that time I was not able to perform on account of a blow 
received from an Indian on the jaw with the back of a tomahawk: 
there was a weed that grew plentifully in that place, the juice of 
which l knew to be grateful and nourishing ; I gathered a bundle of 
the same, took up my lodging under a large spreading beach tree, 
and having sucked plentifully of the juice, went to sleep. Next day 
I made a due east course, which I generally kept the rest of my 


knight’s narrative. 


137 


journey.—I often imagined my gun was only wood-bound, and tried 
every method I could devise to unscrew the lock, but never could 
effect it, having no knife nor any thing fitting for the purpose. I 
had now the satisfaction to find my jaw begin to mend, and in four 
or five days could chew any vegetable proper for nourishment, but 
finding my gun only a useless burden, 1 left it in the wilderness. I 
had no apparatus for making fire to sleep by, so that I could get 
but little rest on account of the gnats and musquitos ; there are like¬ 
wise a great many swamps in the country through which I passed, 
which occasioned me very often to lie wet. 

I crossed the river Muskingum about three or four miles below 
Fort Laurence, and aimed for the Ohio river.—All this time my 
food was gooseberries, young nettles, the juice of herbs, a few 
service-berries, and some May apples, together with two young 
blackbirds and a terrapin, which I devoured raw.—When my food 
sat heavy on my stomach, I used to eat a little wild ginger, which 
put all to rights. 

I came to the Ohio river about five miles below Fort M’Intosh, in 
the evening of the 21st day after I had made my escape, and on the 
22d, about seven o’clock in the moning, being the 4th day of July, 
arrived safe, though very much fatigued, at the Fort. 



THE 


NARRATIVE OF JOHN SLOYER. 


Having in the last war been a prisoner amongst the Indians many 
years, and so being well acquainted with the country west of the 
Ohio, I was employed as a guide in the expedition under Colonel 
William Crawford against the Indian towns on or near the river 
Sandusky. It would be unnecessary for me to relate what is so well 
known, the circumstances and unfortunate event of that expedition ; 
it will be sufficient to observe, that having on Tuesday the fourth of 
June fought the enemy near Sandusky, we lay that night in our 
camp, and the next day fired on each other at the distance of three 
hundred yards, doing little or no execution. In the evening of that 
day, it was proposed by Colonel Crawford, as I have been since 
informed, to draw off with order ; but at the moment of our retreat 
the Indians (who had probably perceived that we were about to 
retire) firing alarm guns, our men broke and rode off in confusion, 
treading down those who were on foot, and leaving the wounded 
men who supplicated to be taken with them. 

I was with some others on the rear of our troops, feeding our 
horses in the glade, when our men began to break.—The main body 
of our people had passed by me a considerable distance before I was 
ready to set out. I overtook them before they crossed the glade, 
and was advanced almost in front. The company in which I was, 
had separated from me, and had endeavoured to pass a morass ; for 
coming up I found their horses had stuck fast in the morass, and 
endeavouring to pass, mine also in a short time stuck fast.—I ought 
to have said that the company of five or six men with which I had 
been immediately connected, and who were some distance to the 
right of the main body, had separated from me, &c.—I tried a long 
time to disengage my horse, until I could hear the enemy just behind 
me and on each side, but in vain. Here then I was obliged to leave 
him.—The morass was so unstable that I was to the middle in it, and 
it was with the greatest difficulty that I got across it, but having at 
length succeeded, I came up with the six men who had left their 
horses in the same manner I had done; two of these, my companions, 
having lost their guns. 

We travelled that night, making our course towards Detroit, with 
a view to shun the enemy, who we conceived to have taken the paths 


140 


slover’s narrative. 


by which the main body of our people had retreated. Just before 
day, we got into a second deep morass and were under the necessity 
of detaining until it was light to see our way throught it. The 
whole of this day we travelled toward the Shawanese towns, with a 
view of throwing ourselves still farther out of the search of the enemy. 
About ten o’clock this day we sat down to eat a little, having tasted 
nothing from Tusday, the day of our engagement, until this time, 
which was on Thursday ; and now the only thing we had to eat was 
a scrap of pork to each. We had sat down just by a warrior’s path, 
which we had not suspected, when eight or nine warriors appeared. 
—Running off hastily, we left our baggage and provisions but were 
not discoveved by the party; skulking some time in the grass and 
bushes, we returned to the place and recovered our baggage. The 
warriors had hallooed as they passed, and were answered by others 
on our flanks. 

In our journey through the glades, or wide extended dry meadows, 
about twelve o’clock this day we discovered a party of Indians in 
front, but skulking in the grass and bushes were not perceived by 
them. In these glades we were in great danger, as we could be seen 
at a considerable distance. In the afternoon of this day there fell a 
heavy rain, the coldest I ever felt. We halted while it rained, and 
then travelling on, we saw a party of the enemy about two hundred 
yards before us, but hiding ourselves in the bushes, we had again 
the good fortune not to be discovered. 

On this day, which was the second after the retreat, one of our 
company, who was affected with a rheumatic swelling, was left 
behind some distance in a swamp. Waiting for him some time, we 
saw him coming within one hundred yards, as I sat on the body of 
an old tree mending my moccasins, but taking my eye from him I, 
saw him no more.'—He had not observed our tracks, but had gone a 
different way.—We whistled on our chargers and afterwards hallooed 
for him, but in vain.—Nevertheless he was fortunate in missing us, 
for he afterwards came safe into Wheeling. We travelled on until 
night, and were on the waters of Muskingum from the middle of 
this day. 

Having catched a fawn, we made a fire in the evening, and had a 
repast, having in the mean time eaten nothing but the small bit of 
pork I mentioned before. We set off at break of day.—About nine 
o’clock the third day we fell in with a party of the enemy about 
twenty miles from the Tuscarawas, which is about 135 miles from 
Fort Pitt. They had come upon our tracks, or had been on our 
flanks, and discovered us, and then having got before, had way-laid 
us, and fired before we perceived them. At the first fire one of my 
companions fell before me, and another just behind ; these two had 
guns : there were six men in company, and four guns, two of these 
rendered useless by reason of the wet, when coming through the 
swamp the first night; we had tried to discharge them, but could 
not. When the Indians fired I ran to a tree, but an Indian presenting 
himself fifteen yards before me, desired me to deliver myself up and 


slover’s narrative. 


141 


I should not be hurt: My gun was in good order, but apprehending 
the enemy behind might discharge their pieces at me, I did not risk 
firing, which I had afterwards reason to regret, when I found what 
was to be my fate, and that the Indian who was before me and 
presented his gun, was one of those who had just before fired. Two 
of my companions were taken with me in the same manner, the 
Indians assuring us we should not be hurt. But one in company, 
James Paul, who had a gun in order, made his escape, and has since 
come into Wheeling. One of these Indians knew me, and was of 
the party by whom I was taken in the last war. He came up and 
spoke to me, calling me by my Indian name, Mannuchcothee, and 
upbraiding me for coming to war against them. I will take a 
moment here to relate some particulars of my first captivity, and my 
life since. 

I was taken from New River, in Virginia, by the Miamese, a 
nation of Indians by us called the Piets, among whom I lived six 
years ; afterwards, being sold to a Delaware, and by him put into 
the hands of a trader, I was carried amongst the Shawanese, with 
whom I continued six years; so that my whole time amongst 
these nations was twelve years, that is, from the eighth to the 
twentieth year of my age. At the treaty at Fort Pitt in the fall 
preceding what is called Dunmore’s war, which, if I am right, was 
in the year 1773, I came in with the Shawanese nation to the treaty, 
and meeting with some of my relations at that place, was by them 
solicited to relinquish the life of a savage, which I did with some 
reluctance, this manner of life having become natural to me, inas¬ 
much as I had scarcely known any other. I enlisted as a soldier in 
the Continental army, at the commencement of the war, and served 
fifteen months, when I was properly discharged. 

To return: The party by whom we were made prisoners had 
taken some horses, and left them at the glades we had passed the 
day before. They had followed on our tracks from these glades, on 
our return to which we found the horses, which we mounted and 
rode. We were carried to Wachatomakak, a town of the Mingoes 
and Shawanese.—I think it was on the third day we reached the 
town, and when we were approaching it, the Indians, in whose cus¬ 
tody we were, began to look sour, having been kind to us before, 
and given us a little meat and flour to eat, which they had found or 
taken from some of our men on their retreat. This town is small, 
and we were told was about two miles distant from the main town, 
to which they meant to carry us. 

The inhabitants of this town came out with clubs and tomahawks, 
struck, beat and abused us greatly. One of my campanions they 
seized, and having stripped him naked, blackened him with coal and 
water: this was the sign of being condemned to be burnt: the man 
seemed to surmise it, and shed tears. He asked me the meaning 
of his being blackened ; but I was forbid by the enemy, in their 
own language, to tell him what was intended.—In English, which 
they spoke easily, having been often at Fort Pitt, they assured him 


142 


slover’s narrative. 


he was not to be hurt. I know of no reason for making him the 
first object of their cruelty, unless it was that he was the oldest. 

A warrior had been sent to the greater town to acquaint them 
with our coming, and prepare them for the frolic ; for on our coming 
to it, the inhabitants came out with guns, clubs and tomahawks. 
We were told that we had to run to the council house, about three 
hundred yards. The man that was blackened was about twenty 
yards before us in running the gauntlet: they made him their prin¬ 
cipal object, men, women and children beating him, and those who 
had guns firing loads of powder on him as he run naked, putting 
the muzzles of their guns to his body, shouting, hallooing and beat¬ 
ing their drums in the mean time. 

The unhappy man had reached the door of the council house, 
beaten and wounded in a manner shocking to the sight; for having 
arrived before him, we had it in our power to view the spectacle; 
it was indeed the most horrid that can be conceived : they had cut 
him with their tomahawks, shot his body black, burnt it into holes 
with loads of powder blown into him : a large wadding had made a 
wound in his shoulder whence the blood gushed. 

Agreeably to the declaration of the enemy when he first set out, 
he had reason to think himself secure when he had reached the door 
of the council house.—This seemed to be his hope, for coming up 
with great struggling and endeavor, he laid hold of the door but was 
pulled back and drawn away by them ; finding they intended no 
mercy, but putting him to death, he attempted several times to snatch 
or lay hold of some of their tomahawks, but being weak could not 
effect it. We saw him borne off and they were a long time beating, 
wounding, pursuing and killing him. 

That same evening I saw the dead body of this man close by the 
council house.—It was mangled cruelly and the blood mingled with 
the powder was rendered black. The same evening I saw him, 
after he had been cut into pieces and his limbs and his head about 
two hundred yards on the outside of the town put on poles. That 
evening also, I saw the bodies of three others in the same black and 
mangled condition : these I was told had been put to death the same 
day, and just before we had reached the town. Their bodies, as 
they lay, were black and bloody, being burnt with powder; two of 
these were Harrison and young Crawford. I knew the visage of 
Colonel Harrison, and I saw his clothing and that of young Craw¬ 
ford, at the town. They brought horses to me and asked if I knew 
them ?—I said they were Harrison’s and Crawford’s. They said 
they were. 

The third of these men I did not know, but believe to have been 
Col. M’Oleland, the third in command on the expedition. 

The next day the bodies of these men were dragged to the outside 
of the town, and their carcases being given to the dogs, their limbs 
and hands were stuck on poles. 

My surviving companion, shortly after we had reached the coun¬ 
cil house, was sent to another town, and I presume was burnt or 
executed in the same manner. 


slover’s narrative. 


143 


In the evening the men assembled in the council house : this is a 
large building, about fifty yards in length, twenty-five wide, and 
about sixteen feet in height, built of split poles covered with bark. 
Their first object was to examine me, which they could do in their 
own language, as I could speak the Miame, Shawanese and Dela¬ 
ware languages, which 1 had learned during my early captivity in 
the last war : I found I had not forgotten these languages, especially 
the two former, being able to speak them as well as my native 
tongue. 

They began by interrogating me concerning the situation of our 
country—our provisions—our numbers—the state of the war between 
us and Britain, &c. I informed them that Cornwallis had been 
taken, which next day, when Matthew Elliott, with James Girty, 
came, he affirmed to be a lie, and the Indians seemed to give full 
credit to his declaration. 

Hitherto I had been treated with some appearance of kindness, 
but now the enemy began to alter their behaviour towards me. 
Girty had informed them, that when he asked me how I liked to 
live there, I had said that I intended to embrace the first opportunity 
to take a scalp and run off.—It was, to be sure, very probable that 
if I had such intentions, I would communicate it to him. Another 
man came to me and told me a story of his having lived on the 
South Branch of the Potomac, in Virginia, and having three brothers 
there, he pretended he wanted to get away, but I suspected his 
design ; nevertheless, he reported that I had consented to go.—In 
the mean time, I was not tied, and could have escaped, but having 
nothing to put on my feet, I waited some time longer to provide 
for this. 

I was invited every night to the war dances, which they usually 
continued until almost day. I could not comply with their desire, 
believing these things to be the service of the devil. 

The council lasted fifteen days; from fifty to one hundred war¬ 
riors being usually in council, and sometimes more. Every warrior 
is admitted to the councils ; but only the chiefs, or head warriors, 
have the privilege of speaking. The head warriors are accounted 
such from the number of scalps or prisoners they have taken. 

The third day M’Kee was in council, and afterwards was gener¬ 
ally present. He spoke little, and did not ask any questions or 
speak to me at all. He lives about two miles out of the town, has 
a house built of squared 1 »gs, with a shingled roof; he was dressed 
in gold-laced clothes. 1 had seen him at the former town through 
which I passed. 

I think it was on the last day of the council, save one, that a 
speech came from Detroit, brought by a warrior who had been coun¬ 
selling with the commanding officer of that place. The speech had 
been long expected, and was in answer to one some time before sent 
from the town to Detroit. It was in a belt of wampum, and began 
with addressing them, “My children,” and enquiring why they 
continued to take prisoners ? “ Provisions are scarce ; when prison- 

13 


144 


slover’s narrative. 


crs are brought in we are obliged to maintain them, and still some 
of them are running away, and carrying tidings of our affairs : 
when any of your people fall into the hands of the rebels they show 
no mercy : why then should you take prisoners ? Take no more 
prisoners, my children, of any sort; man, woman or child.” 

Two days after, a party of every near nation being collected, it 
was determined on to take no more prisoners of any sort. They 
had held a large council, and the determination was, that if it were 
possible they could find a child of a span or three inches long, they 
would show no mercy to it. At the conclusion of the council it was 
agreed upon by all the tribes present, viz : the Tawaws, Chiappa- 
"waws, the Wyandots, the Mingoes, the Delawares, the Shawanese, 
the Munses, and a part of the Cherokees, that should any of the 
nations who were not present take any prisoners, these would rise 
against them, take away the prisoners and put them to death. 

In the course of these deliberations I understood what was said 
perfectly. They laid plans against our settlements of Kentucky, the 
Falls, and towards Wheeling. These it will be unnecessary for me 
to mention in this narrative. 

There was one council held at which I was not present. The 
warriors had sent for me as usual, but the squaw with whom I lived 
would not suffer me to go, but hid me under a large quantity of 
skins. It may have been from an unwillingness that I should hear 
in council the determination with respect to me, that I should be 
burnt. 

About this time twelve men were brought in from Kentucky, three 
of whom were burnt on this day ; the remainder were distributed to 
other towns, and all, as the Indians informed me, were burnt.—This 
was after the speech came from Detroit. 

On this day, also, I saw an Indian who had just come into town, 
and who said that the prisoner he was bringing to be burnt, and who 
he said was a doctor, had made his escape from him.—I knew this 
must have been Dr. Knight, who went as surgeon of the expedition. 
The Indian had a wound four inches long in his head, which he ac¬ 
knowledged the doctor had given him : he was cut to the scull. 
His story was, that he had untied the doctor, being asked by him to 
do so, the doctor promising that he would not go away; that while 
he was employed in kindling the fire, the doctor snatched up the 
gun, and came behind and struck him ; that he then made a stroke 
at the doctor with his knife, which he laid hold of, and his fingers 
were cut almost off, the knife being drawn through his hand ; that 
he gave the doctor two stabs, one in the belly, the other in the back : 
he said the doctor was a great, big, tall, strong man. Being now 
adopted into an Indian family, and having some confidence for my 
safety, I took the liberty to contradict this, and said that I knew the 
doctor, who was a weak, little man. The other warriors laughed 
immoderately, and did not seem to credit him. At this time I 
was told that Colonel Crawford was burnt, and they greatly exulted 
over it. 


slover’s narrative. 


145 


The day after the council I have mentioned, about forty warriors, 
accompanied by Geo. Girty, came, early in the morning, round the 
house where I was. The squaw gave me up ; 1 was sitting before 
the door of the house ; they put a rope round my neck, tied my 
arms behind my back, stripped me naked, and blacked me in the 
usual manner. George Girty, as soon as I was tied, damned me, 
and said I now should get what I had deserved many years. 1 was 
led away to a town distant about five miles, to which a messsenger 
had been despatched to desire them to prepare to receive me.— 
Arriving at this town, I was beaten with clubs and the pipe ends of 
their tomahawks, and was kept for some time tied to a tree before a 
house door. In the mean while the inhabitants set out to another 
town about two miles distant, where I was to be burnt, and where I 
arrived about three o’clock in the afternoon. 

Here also was a council-house, part of it covered and part of it 
without a roof. In the part of it where no cover was, but only sides 
built up, there stood a post about sixteen feet in height, and in the 
middle of the house around the post, there were three piles'of wood, 
built about three feet high and four feet from the post. Being 
brought to the post, my arms were tied behind me, and the thong or 
cord with which they were bound was fastened to the post; a rope 
also was put about my neck and tied to the post about four feet above 
my head. During the time they were tying me, piles of wood 
were kindled and began to flame. 

Death by burning, which appeared to be now my fate, I had 
resolved to sustain with patience. The divine grace of God had 
made it less alarming to me : for on my way this day, I had been 
greatly exercised in regard to my latter end. I knew myself to have 
been a regular member of the church, and to have repented and 
sought forgiveness for my sins ; but though I had often heard of the 
faith of assurance, had known nothing of it; but early this day, 
instantaneously, by a change wrought upon me sudden and percei¬ 
vable as lightning, an assurance of my peace made with God sprung 
up in my mind. The following words were the subject of mv 
meditation—“In peace thou shalt see God. Fear not those who 
can kill the body. In peace shalt thou depart.” I was on this 
occasion, by a confidence in mind not to be resisted, fully assured of 
my salvation : this being the case, I was willing, satisfied, and glad 
to die. 

I was tied to the post, as I have already said, and the flame was 
now kindled. The day was clear, not a cloud to be seen : if there 
were clouds low in the horizon, the sides of the house prevented me 
from seeing them, but I heard no thunder, nor observed any sign of 
approaching rain. Just as the fire of one pile began to blaze, the 
wind rose ; from the time they began to kindle the fire and to tie me 
to the post, until the wind began to blow, was about fifteen minutes. 
The wind blew a hurricane, and the rain followed in less than three 
minutes, The rain fell violently; and the fire, though it began to 


146 


slover’s narrative. 


blaze considerably, was instantly extinguished. The rain lasted 
about a quarter of an hour. 

When it was over the savages stood amazed, and were a long time 
silent.—At last one said, “We will let him alone till morning, and 
take a whole day’s frolic in burning him.” The sun at this time was 
about three hours high. It was agreed upon, the rope about my neck 
was untied, and making me sit clown, they began to dance around 
me. They continued dancing in this manner until eleven o’clock at 
night; in the mean time, beating, kicking, and wounding me with 
their tomahawks and clubs. 

At last one of the warriors, the Half Moon, asked me if I was 
sleepy? I answered, Yes. The head warrior then selected three 
men to take care of me. I was taken to a block house ; iny arms 
were tied until the cord was hid in the flesh ; they were tied in two 
places, round the wrist and above the elbows. A rope was fastened 
about my neck, and tied to a beam of the house, but permitting me 
to lie down on a board. The three warriors were constantly 
harassing and troubling me, saying, “ How will you like to eat fire 
to-morrow—you will kill no more Indians now.” I was in expec¬ 
tation of their going to sleep; when at length, about an hour before 
day-break, two laid down; the third smoked a pipe, talked to me, 
and asked the same painful questions. About half an hour after, he 
also laid down and I heard him begin to snore. Instantly I went to 
work, and as my arms were perfectly dead with the cord, I laid 
myself down upon my right arm which was behind my back, and 
keeping it fast with my fingers, which had still some life and 
strength, I slipped the cord from my left arm over my elbow and my 
wrist. One ot the warriors now got up and stirred the fire : I was 
apprehensive that I should be examined, and thought it was over 
with me ; but my hopes revived when he laid down agaid. I then 
attempted to unloose the rope about my neck, tried to knaw it, but 
in vain, as it was as thick as my thumb and as hard as iron, being 
made of a buffalo hide: I wrought with it a long time, gave it up, 
and could see no relief. At this time I saw day break and heard 
the cock crow: I made a second attempt almost without hope, 
pulling the rope by putting my fingers between my neck and it, and 
to my great surprise it came easily untied: it was a noose with two 
or three knots tied over it. 

I stept over the warriors as they lay, and having got out of the 
house, looked back to see if there was any disturbance; I then ran 
throngh the town into a corn field; in my way I saw a squaw with 
four children lying asleep under a tree : going a different way into 
the field I untied my arm, which was greatly swelled and turned 
black: having observed a number of horses in the glade as I ran 
through it, I went back to catch one, and on my way found a piece 
of an old rug or quilt hanging on a fence which I took with me: 
having caught the horse, the rope with which I had been tied serving 
for a halter, I rode off: the horse was strong and swift, and the 
woods being open and the country level, about ten o’clock that day 


slover’s narrative. 


147 


I crossed the Sciota river at a place by computation full fifty miles 
from the town. I had rode about twenty miles on this side Sciota 
by three o’clock in the afternoon, when the horse began to fail and 
could no longer go on a trot. I instantly left him, and on foot ran 
about twenty miles farther that day, making in the whole the distance 
of near one hundred miles. In the evening I heard hallooing behind 
me, and for this reason did not halt until about ten o’clock at night, 
when I sat down, was exiremely sick, and vomited; but when the 
moon rose, which might have been about two hours after, I went on 
and travelled until day. 

During the night I had a path, but in the morning judged it pru¬ 
dent to forsake the path and take a ridge for the distance of fifteen 
miles in a line at right angles to my course, putting back as I went 
along with a stick the weeds which I had bended, lest I should be 
tracked by the enemy. I lay the next night on the waters of Mus¬ 
kingum : the nettles bad been troublesome to me after my crossing 
the Sciota, having nothing to defend myself but the piece of a rug 
which I had found, and which while I rode I used under me by way 
of saddle ; the briers and thorns were now painful to me and 
prevented me from travelling in the night until the moon appeared : 
In the mean time I was hindered from sleeping by the musquetoes, 
for even in the day I was under the necessity of travelling with a 
handful of bushes to brush them from my body. 

The second night I reached Cushakim ; next day came to New- 
comer’s-town, where I got about seven raspberries, which were the 
first thing I ate from the morning in which the Indians had taken me 
to burn me, until this time, which was now about three o’clock the 
fourth day. I felt hunger very little, but was extremely weak; I 
swam Muskingum river at Oldcomer’s-town, the river being about 
two hundred yards wide; having reached the bank I sat down, 
looked back and thought I had a start of the Indians if any should 
pursue. That evening I travelled about five miles, next day came 
to Stillwater, a small river, in a branch of which I got two small 
crawfish to eat: Next night I lay within five miles of Wheeling, but 
had not slept a wink during this whole time, that being rendered 
impossible by the musquetoes, which it was my constant employ¬ 
ment to brush away. Next day I got to Wheeling, and saw a man 
on the island in the Ohio opposite to that post; calling to him and 
asking for particular persons who had been on the expedition, and 
telling him that I was Slover, he at length, with great difficulty, was 
persuaded to come over and bring me across in his canoe. 

13 * 






I 








* 














































A SHORT MEMOIR 

OF 

COLONEL CRAWFORD 


In the course of a perambulation through the county of Fayttee 
(Penn.) in the summer of 1839, the writer chanced upon the scite 
of what was once the residence of Col. Wm. Crawford —who 
“ Stands the shadow of a name once great.” 

It is situated on the bank of the Youghiogheny, a few hundred 
yards below where the town of New Haven now stands, and all that 
remains at this day, of what was once the hospitable mansion of 
Col. Crawford, is a few old logs, which appear to have outlived the 
ravages of modern improvement, and remain a sad memento of his * m 
unhappy fate. 

Col. Crawford was one of the first pioneers that settled in the 
valley of the Youghiogheny. He emigrated from Berkley county, 
Virginia, in 1768, with his family, but had been out himself the 
year previous, to fix upon a location, and build a cabin for their 
reception. I suppose when Mr. Crawford shouldered his rifle, and 
took up his line of march, solitary and alone, to visit the country 
beyond the blue ridge, he followed the road by which the unfortunate 
Braddock had travelled with his army a few years before. At any 
rate he fixed the location of his residence precisely at the place 
where Braddock’s army crossed the Youghiogheny river, which 
place retains to this day the name of Braddock’s Ford. 

Whether Col. Crawford fixed upon this spot by accident or design, 
it is at least certain th^t it was a very favorable location. From its 
then being on the only leading road to this remote region, he was 
enabled to see all travellers visiting the Indian country, and being 
himself an intelligent and hospitable man, his house was made the 
stopping place of the weary pioneer. He was the intimate friend 
and acquaintance of General Washington, who was frequently an 
inmate of his humble dwelling during his frequent visits to this 
section of the country, for the purpose of locating lands and attending 
to business for the government, with the Indians. 

The vicissitudes and dangers of the first settlers on the Indian 
frontiers, have now, many of them, become matters of history, and 
are well known ; but a great number of thrilling incidents were lost 
by the troubles and unsettled state of the times in which they 
occurred, and are now forever consigned to the tomb of oblivion. 


150 


COL. CRAWFORD. 


Such is the case with many adventures in the life of Col. Crawford. 
His connexions and contemporaries have nearly all followed him to 
the land of spirits ; his papers and records were never preserved and 
very little else than a few brief stories remain to tell of his virtues 
and his fame. 

He was born about the year 1732, and was from manhood an 
active warrior against the savages. During the French war he dis¬ 
tinguished himself by his bravery and good conduct, and was much 
noticed by Gen. Washington, who obtained for him an ensigncy. 

At the commencement of the Revolution, he raised a regiment by 
his own exertions, and held the commission of Colonel in the conti¬ 
nental army. He is said to have possessed a sound judgment—was 
a man of singular good nature, great humanity and remarkable 
hospitality. He was about 50 years of age when he met the horrid 
death described in the narrative of Dr. Knight. 


A NARRATIVE 

OF THE CAPTIVITY AND ESCAPE OF FRANCES SCOTT, 
OF WASHINGTON COUNTY, VIRGINIA. 


On Wednesday the 29th day of June, 1785, late in the evening, 
a^ large company of armed men passed the house, on their way to 
Kentucky—some part of whom encamped within two miles. Mr. 
Scott living on a frontier part, generally made the family watchful; 
but on this calamitous day, after so large a body of men had passed, 
shortly after night, he lay down in his bed, and imprudently left one 
of the doors of his house open ; the children were also in bed, and 
asleep. Mrs. Scott was nearly undressed, when, to her unutterable 
astonishment and horror, she saw rushing in through the door that 
was left open, painted savages with presented arms, raising a hideous 
shriek—Mr. Scott being awake, instantly jumped out of his bed, but 
was immediately fired at: he forced his way through the middle of 
the enemy and got out of the door, but fell a few paces from thence. 
An Indian seized Mrs. Scott, and ordered her to a particular spot, 
and not to move: others stabbed and cut the throats of the three 
youngest children in their bed, and afterwards lifted them up and 
dashed them down on the iloor, near the mother ; the eldest a 
beautiful girl of eight years old, awoke, escaped out of the bed, 
ran to her parent, and, with the most plaintive accents, cried, 
“ O mama! mama! save me;”—the mother, in the deepest anguish 
of spirit, and with a flood of tears, entreated the savages to spare her 
child; but, with a brutal fierceness, they tomahawked and stabbed 
her in the mother’s arms. Adjacent to Mr. Scott’s dwelling house 
another family lived, of the name of Ball.—The Indians also attacked 
them at the same instant they did Mr. Scott’s ; but the door being 
shut the enemy fired into the house through an opening between two 
logs, and killed a young lad; they then essayed to force the door 
open, but a surviving brother fired through the door, and the 
enemy desisted, and went off: the remaining part of the family ran 
out of the house and escaped. In Mr. Scott’s house were four good 
rifles, well loaded, and a good deal of clothing, and furniture, part of 
which belonged to people that had left it on their way to Kentucky. 
The Indians loaded themselves with the plunder, being 13 in num¬ 
ber, then speedily made off, and continued travelling all night; next 
morning their chief alotted to each man his share ; and detached 
nine of the party to steal horses from the inhabitants on Clinch. The 
eleventh day after Mrs. Scott’s captivity the four Indians that had 
her in charge, stopped at a place fixed upon for a rendezvous, and 
to hunt, being now in great want of provisions.—Three went out, 
and the chief, being an old man, was left to take care of the prisoner, 
who, by this time, expressed a willingness to proceed to the Indian 


152 


scott’s narrative. 


towns, which seemed to have the desired effect of lessening her 
keeper’s vigilance. In the day time, as the old man was graning a 
deer skin, the captive pondering on her situation, and anxiously 
looking for an opportunity to make her escape, took the resolution, 
and went to the Indian carelessly, asked liberty to go a small distance 
to a stream of water, to wash the blood off her apron, that had 
remained besmeared since the fatal night of the murder of her little 
daughter. He told her, in the English tongue, “go along;” she 
then passed by him, his face being in a contrary direction from that 
she was going, and he very busy. She, after getting to the water, 
proceeded on without delay, made to a high barren mountain, and 
travelled until late in the evening, when she came down into the 
valley, in search of the track she had been taken along; hoping 
thereby to find the way back, without the risk of being lost, and 
perishing with hunger in uninhabited parts. On coming across the 
valley to the river side, she observed in the sand tracks of two men, 
that had gone up the river, and had just returned. She concluded 
these to have been her pursuers, which excited emotions of gratitude 
and thankfulness to divine providence for so timely a deliverance. 
Being without any provisions—having no kind of weapon or tool to 
assist her in getting any, and being almost destitute ot clothing, and 
knowing that a vast tract of rugged, high mountains intervened, 
between where she was and the inhabitants eastwardly—the distance 
ot the Kentucky settlements unknown,—almost as ignorant as a 
child of the method of steering through the woods, it may well be 
supposed to have excited painful sensations. But certain death, 
either by hunger or wild beasts, seemed preferable to being in the 
power of wretches who had excited in her mind such horror. She 
addressed heaven for protection, and taking courage, proceeded 
onward. After travelling three days, she had nearly met with the 
Indians, as she supposed, that had been sent to Clinch to steal 
horses, but providentially hearing their approach, concealed herself 
among the cane, until the enemy had passed. This giving a fresh 
alarm, and her mind being filled with consternation, she got lost, 
proceeding backwarks and forwards for several days ; at length she 
came to a river, that seemed to come from the east; concluding it 
was Sandy river, she resolved to trace it to its source, which is 
adjacent to the Clinch settlements. After proceeding up the same 
several days, she came to where the river runs through the great 
Laurel mountain, where there is a prodigious water-fall, and numer- 
ours high, craggy cliffs along the water’s edge ; that way seemed 
impassable—the mountain steep and difficult: however, our unhappy 
traveller concluded that the latter way was the best. She therefore 
ascended for sometime, but coming to a range of inaccessible rocks, 
she turned her course towards the the foot of the mountain and the 
river side : after getting into a deep gulley, and passing over several 
high, steep rocks, she reached the river side, where, to her inex¬ 
pressible affliction, she found that a perpendicular rock, or rather 
one that hung over, of 15 or 20 feet high, formed the bank. Here 


scott’s narrative. 


153 


a solemn pause took place ; she essayed to return, but the height of 
the steeps and rocks she had passed over, prevented her. She then 
returned to the edge of the precipice, and viewed the bottom of it, 
as the certain spot to end all her troubles, to remain on the top to 
pine away with hunger, or be devoured by wild beasts. After 
serious meditation, and devout exercises, she determined on leaping 
from the height, and accordingly jumped off. Although the place 
she had to alight was covered with uneven rocks, not a bone was 
broken ; but, being exceedingly stunned by the fall, she remained 
unable to proceed for some space of time. The dry season caused 
the river to be shallow—she travelled in it, and where she could, by 
its edge, until she got through the mountain, which she concluded 
was several miles. After this, as she was travelling along the bank 
of the river, a venomous snake bit her on the ancle : she had strength 
to kill it, and knowing its kind, concluded that death must soon 
overtake her. By this time, Mrs. Scott was reduced to a mere 
skeleton with fatigue, hunger and grief: probably this state of her 
body was the means of preserving her from the effects of the poison : 
be that as it may, very little pain succeeded the bite, and what little 
swelling there was, fell into her feet. Our wanderer now left the 
river and after proceeding a good distance, she came to where the 
valley parted into two, each leading a different course.—Here a 
painful suspense again took place : a forlorn creature, almost ex¬ 
hausted, and certain that if she was far led out of the way, she would 
never see a human creature.—During these reflections, a beautiful 
bird passed close by her, fluttering along the ground, and went out 
of sight up one of the valleys. This drew her attention, and whilst 
considering what it might mean, another bird of the same appearance 
in like manner fluttered past her, and took the same valley the other 
had done. This determined her choice of the way; and in two 
clays, which was on the 11th day of August, she reached that settle¬ 
ment on Clinch, called New Garden; whereas (she is since informed 
by wood-men) had she taken the other valley, it would have led her 
back towards the Ohio. 

Mrs. Scott relates, that during her wandering from the tenth of 
July to the eleventh of August, she had no other subsistence but 
chewing and swallowing the juice of young cane stalks, Sassafras 
leaves, and some other plants she did not know the names of; that, 
on her journey, she saw Buffaloes, Elks, Deer, and trequently Bears 
and Wolves ; not one of which, although some passed very near her, 
offered to do her the least harm. One day a Bear came near her, 
with a young Fawn in his mouth, and, on discovering her he 
dropped his prey and ran off. Hunger prompted her to go and take 
the flesh and eat it: hut, on reflection, she desisted, thinking that 
the Bear might return and devour her ; besides, she had an aversion 
to raw flesh. 

Mrs. Scott continued in a low state of health, and remained 
inconsolable for the loss of her family, particularly bewailing the 
cruel death of her little daughter. 













































• f l 
















































































THE TRIAL OF MMCIITAGA, 

AN INDIAN, 


Jit a Court of Oyer and Terminer for the County of West * 
moreland , in 1784-5. 


I know the particulars of the following story well, because one of 
the men (Smith) was shingling a house for me in the town of 
Pittsburg, the evening before he was murdered by Mamachtaga, and 
for which murder, and some others, this Indian was tried.—Smith 
had borrowed a blanket of me, saying that he was about to cross the 
river (Allegheny) to the Indian camp on the west side.—Here a 
party of Indians, mostly Delawares, had come in, it being just after 
the war, and the greater part of these Indians having professed them¬ 
selves friendly during the war, and their chief, Killbuck, with his 
family and that of several others, having remained at the garrison, 
or on an island in the Ohio river, called Killbuck’s Island, and under 
the reach of the guns of the fort. Mamachtaga had been at war 
against the settlements with others of the Delawares who were now 
at this encampment. 

1 went myself over to the encampment, the next morning, and 
found the Indians there. Two men had been murdered, Smith and 
another of the name of Evans, and two wounded, one of them a 
dwarf of the name of Freeman. According to the relation which I 
got from the wounded, there were four white men together in a 
cabin when Mamachtaga, without the least notice, rushed in and 
stabbed Smith mortally, and had stabbed Evans, who had seized the 
Indian who was entangled with the dwarf among his feet attempting 
to escape, and who had received wounds also in the scullle; the 
other white man had also received a stab. It would appear that the 
Indian had been in liquor, according to the account of the other 
Indians and of the white men who escaped. Killbuck appeared 
greatly cast down, and sat upon a log, silent. Mamachtaga made no 
attempt to escape.—He was now sober and gave himself up to the 
guard that came over, affecting not to know what had happened. 
The seat of justice of Westmoreland county being 30 miles distant, 
and the jail there not being secure, he was taken to the guard-house 
of the garrison, to be confined until a court of Oyer and Terminer 
should be holden in the county. Living in the place and being of 
14 



156 


TRIAL OF MAMACHTAGA. 


the profession of the law, said I to the interpreter, Joseph Nicholas, 
one day, Has that Indian any fur or peltry, or has lie any interest 
with his nation that he could collect some and pay a lawyer to take 
up his defence for this homicide ? The interpreter said that he had 
some in the hands of a trader in town, and that he could raise from 
his nation any quantity of racoon or beaver, provided it would 
answer any purpose. I was struck with the pleasantry of having an 
Indian for a client, and getting a fee in this way, and told the 
interpreter to go to the Indian, and explain the matter to him, who 
did so, and brought me an account that Mamachtaga had forty weight 
of Beaver, which he was ready to make over, being with a trader in 
town, William Amberson, with whom he had left it, and that he had 
a brother who would set off immediately to the Indian towns, and 
procure a hundred weight or more if that would do any good, but 
the interpreter stipulated that he should have half of all that should 
be got, for his trouble in bringing about the contract.—Accordingly 
he was dispatched to the Indian, from whom he brought, in a short 
time, an order for the beaver in the hand of the trader, with Mamach¬ 
taga (his mark.) The mark was something like a turkey’s foot and 
these people have no idea of an hieroglyphic merely abstract, as a 
strait line or a curve, but it must bear some resemblance to a thing in 
nature. After this, as it behoved me, I went to consult with my 
client and arrange his defence, if it were possible to make one on 
which a probable face could be put. Accompanied by the inter¬ 
preter, I was admitted to the Indian, so that I could converse with 
him ; he was in what is called the black hole, something resembling 
that kind of hole which is depressed in the floor, and which the 
Southern people have in their cabins, in which to keep their 
esculent roots, from the frost during the winter season. Not going 
down into the hole as maybe supposed, though it was large enough 
to contain two or three, and was depressed about eight feet, being 
the place in which delinquent or refractory soldiery had been confined 
occasionally for punishment, but standing on the floor above, I 
desired the interpreter to put his questions. This was done, explain¬ 
ing to him the object of the enquiry, that it was to serve him, and 
by knowing the truth, be prepared for his defence ; he affected to 
know nothing about it, nor was he disposed to rely upon any defence 
that could be made. His idea was that he was giving the beaver as 
a commutation for his life. Under this impression it did not appear 
to me proper that I should take the beaver, knowing that I could do 
nothing for him ; besides, seeing the manner in which the dark and 
squalid creature was accommodated with but a shirt and breech-clout 
on, humanity dictated that the beaver should be applied to procure 
him a blanket and food additional to the bread and water which he 
was allowed. Accordingly I returned the order to the interpreter, 
and desired him to procure and furnish these things. He seemed 
reluctant, and thought we ought to keep ihe perquisite we had got. 
On this, I thought it most advisable to retain the order and give it 
to a trader in town with directions to furnish these articles occasion- 


TRIAL OF MANACHTAGA. 


157 


ally to the officer of the guard, which I did, taking the responsibility 
upon myself to the interpreter for his part of the beaver. 

An Indian woman, known by the name of the Grenadier Squaw, 
was sitting doing some work by the trap-door of the cell, or hole in 
which he was confined, for the trap-door was kept open and a sentry at 
the outer door of the guard-house, the Indian woman was led by 
sympathy to sit by. him. 1 had a curiosity to know the force of 
abstract sentiment, in preferring greater evils to what with us would 
seem to be lesser ; or rather the force of opinion over pain. For 
knowing the idea of the Indians with regard to the disgrace of hang¬ 
ing, I proposed to the Indian woman, who spoke English as well as 
Indian, and was a Delaware herself, (and Mamachtaga was of that 
nation,) to ask him which he would choose, to be hanged or burnt ? 
Whether it was that the woman was struck with the inhumanity of 
introducing the idea of death, she not only declined to put the 
question, but her countenance expressed resentment. I then recol¬ 
lected, and have since attended to the circumstance, that amongst 
themselves, when they mean to put any one to death, they conceal 
the determination, and the time, until it is about to be put in execution, 
unless the blacking the prisoner, which is a mark upon such as are 
about to be burnt, may be called an intimation ; but it is only by 
those who are accustomed to their manners that it can be understood. 
However, I got the question put by the interpreter, at which he 
seemed to hesitate for some time, but said he would rather be shot 
or be tomahawked. In a few days it made a great noise through the 
country that I was to appear for the Indian, and having acquired 
some reputation in the defence of criminals, it was thought possible 
by some that he might be acquitted by the crooks of the law , as the 
people expressed it; and it was talked of publickly to raise a party 
and come to town and take the interpreter and me both, and hang 
the interpreter, and exact an oath from me not to appear in behalf of 
the Indian. It was, however, finally concluded to come in to the 
garrison and demand the Indian, and hang him themselves.— 
Accordingly, a party came, in a few days, and about break of day 
summoned the garrison, and demanded the surrender of the Indian ; 
the commanding officer remonstrated, and prevailed with them to 
leave the Indian to the civil authority. Upon which they retired, 
firing their guns as they came through the town. The interpreter, 
hearing the alarm, sprang up in his shirt, and made for a hill above 
the town, called Grant’s-hill. On seeing him run, he was taken for 
the Indian, who they supposed had been suffered to escape, and was 
pursued, until the people were assured that it was not the Indian. 
In the mean time he had run some miles, and swimming the river, 
lay in the Indian country until he thought it might be safe to return. 

It was not without good reason that the interpreter was alarmed, 
for having been some years amongst the Indians, in early life a 
prisoner, and since a good deal employed in the Indian trade, and 
on all occasions of treaty, employed as an interpreter, he was 
associated in the public mind with an Indian, and on this occasion, 


158 


TRIAL OF MAMACHTAGA. 


considered as the abetter of the Indian, from the circumstance o& 
employing council to defend him. And before this time a party had 
come from the Ghartiers, a settlement south of the Monongahela, in 
the neighbourhood of this town, and had attacked some friendly 
Indians on the Island in the Ohio, (Killbuck’s Island) under the 
protection of the garrison, had killed several, and amongst them 
some that had been of essential service to the whites, in the expedi¬ 
tions against the Indian towns, and on scouting parties, in case of 
attacks upon the settlements. One to whom the whites had given 
the name of Wilson, (Capt. Wilson) was much regretted by the 
garrison. 

A day or two after his return, the interpreter came to me, and 
relinquished all interest in the beaver that was lodged with the trader, 
or expected from the towns, that he might, to use his own language, 
wipe his hands of the affair, and be clear of the charge of supporting 
the Indian. The fact was, that as to beaver from the towns I ex¬ 
pected none, having been informed in the mean time by the friendly 
Indians, that Mamachtaga was a bad man, and was thought so by 
his nation ; that he had been a great warrior ; but was mischievous 
when in liquor, having killed two of his own people; that it would 
not be much regretted in the nation to hear of his death ; and that, ex¬ 
cept his brother, no one would give any thing to get him off. 

He had the appearance of great ferocity ; was of tall stature, and 
fierce aspect; he was called Mamachtaga, which signifies trees blown 
across, as is usual in a hurricane or tempest by the wind, and this 
name had been given him from the ungovernable nature of his pas¬ 
sion. Having, therefore, no expectation of peltry or fur in the case, 
it was no great generosity in me to press upon the interpreter the 
taking of half the beaver, as his right in procuring the contract; but 
finding me obstinate in insisting upon it, he got a friend to speak to 
me, and at length I suffered myself to be prevailed upon to let him 
off and take all the beaver that could be got to myself. 

It did not appear to me advisable to relinquish the defence of 
the Indian, fee or no fee, lest it should be supposed that I yielded 
to the popular impression, the fury of which, when it had a little 
spent itself, began to subside, and there were some who thought the 
Indian might be cleared, if it could be proved that the white men 
killed had made the Indian drunk, which was alleged to be the case; 
but which the wounded and surviving persons denied, particularly 
the dwarf, (William Freeman,) but his testimony, it was thought, 
would not be much regarded, as he could not be said to be man 
grown, and had been convicted at the Quarter Sessions of stealing a 
keg of whiskey some time before. 

At a court of Oyer and Terminer holden for the county of West¬ 
moreland, before Chief Justice M’Kean, and Bryan, Mamachtaga 
was brought to trial.—The usual forms were pursued.—An interpre¬ 
ter, not Nicholas, but a certain Handlyn, stood by him and interpre¬ 
ted, in the Delaware language, the indictment and the meaning of it, 
and the privilege he had to deny the charge, that is, the plea of 


TRIAL OF MAMACHTAGA. 


159 


“ not guilty .” But he could not easily comprehend that it was 
matter of form, and that he must say “ not guilty for he was 
unwilling to deny, as unbecoming a warrior to deny the truth. For 
though he did not confess, yet he did not like to say that he had not 
killed the men; only that he was drunk, and did not know what he 
had done; but “ supposed he should know when he was under the 
ground.” The court directed the plea to be entered for him, and he 
was put upon his trial. 

He was called upon to make his challenges, which the interpreter 
explained to him, which he was left to make himself, and which he 
did as he liked the countenances of the jury, and challenged accord¬ 
ing to the sourness, or cheerfulness of the countenance, and what he 
thought indications of a mild temper. The jurors, as they were 
called to the book, being told in the usual form, “ Prisoner, look 
upon the juror—juror, look upon the prisoner at the bar—are you 
related to the prisoner?” One of them, a German of a swarthy 
complexion, and being the first called, took the question amiss, 
thinking it a reflection, and said with some anger, that “ he thought 
that an uncivil way to treat Dutch people, as if he could be the bro¬ 
ther, or cousin, of an Indian;” but the matter being explained to 
him by another German on the jury, he was satisfied, and was 
sworn. 

The meaning of the jury being on oath, was explained to the 
Indian, to give him some idea of the solemnity and fairness of the 
trial. The testimony was positive and put the homicide beyond a 
doubt; so that nothing remained for me, in opening his defence, but 
the offering to prove that he was in liquor, and that this had been 
given him by the white people, the traders in town. This testimony 
was overruled, and it was explained to the Indian that the being 
drunk could not by our law excuse the murder. The Indian said 
“ he hoped the good man above would excuse it.” 

The jury gave their verdict, guilty, without leaving the bar. And 
the prisoner was remanded to jail. In the mean time there was 
tried at the same court another person, (John Bradly,) on a charge 
of homicide, but who was found guilty of manslaughter only. 
Towards the ending of the court, these were both brought up 
to receive sentence. The Indian was asked what he had to say, 
why sentence of death should not be pronounced upon him. 
This was interpreted to him, and he said that he would rather run 
awhile. This was under the idea of the custom among the Indians 
of giving time to the murderer, according to the circumstances of 
the case, to run, during which time if he can satisfy the relations of 
the deceased, by a commutation for his life, a gun, a horse, fur, and 
the like, it is in their power to dispense with the punishment, but if 
this cannot be done, having not enough to give, or the relations not 
consenting to take a commutation, he must come at the end of the 
time appointed, to the spot assigned, and there, by a warrior of 
the nation, or some relative, son, brother, &c. of the deceased, be 
put to death, in which case the tomahawk is the usual instrument, 
14 * 


160 


TRIAL OF MAMACHTAJA. 


No instance will occur in which the condemned will not be punc¬ 
tual to his engagement. And I think it very probable, or rather 
can have no doubt, but that if this Indian had been suffered to run 
at this time, that is, go to his nation, on the condition to return at a 
certain period, to receive the sentence of what he would call the 
council, he would have come, with as much fidelity, as a man chal¬ 
lenged, would on a point of honor come to the place assigned, and 
at the time when, to risk himself to his adversary. Such is the 
force of opinion, from education, on the human mind. 

Sentence having been pronounced upon the convict of manslaugh¬ 
ter—(In this case, the first part of the sentence, as the law directs, 
was that of hanging, which is done until the benefit of clergy is 
prayed by the prisoner; but not understanding this, he was not 
prepared for the shock ;—nothing could exceed the contortion of his 
muscles when a sentence, contrary to what he had expected, was 
pronounced. Being a simple man, he made a hideous outcry, 
gave a most woful look to the court, and begged for mercy ; and it 
was not for some time after that, having the matter explained to him, 
and the benefit of clergy being allowed, he could be composed.)— 
Sentence of burning in the hand was now pronounced ; at this mo¬ 
ment the sheriff came in with a rope to bind up his hand to a beam 
of the low and wooden court house in which we were, in order that 
the hot iron might be put upon it. 

Sentence of hanging had been previously pronounced upon the 
Indian, on which he had said that he would prefer to be shot; but 
it being explained to him that this could not be done, he had the 
idea of hanging in his mind. Accordingly, by a side glance, seeing 
the sheriff coming in with a rope, which was a bed cord he had pro¬ 
cured, having nothing else, in our then low state of trade and manu¬ 
factures, Mamachtaga conceived that the sentence was about to be 
executed presently upon him, and that the rope was for this purpose, 
which coming unaware upon him, he lost the command of himself 
for a moment; his visage grew black, his features were screwed up, 
and he writhed with horror and aversion—the surprise not having 
given time to the mind to collect itself, and cn the acquired principle 
of honor, to conceal its dismay, or on those of reason to bear with 
and compose itself to its fate. Even when undeceived and made 
acquainted that he was not to die then, he remained under a visible 
horror, the idea of immediate death, and especially of hanging, 
giving a tremor, like the refrigeration of cold upon the human 
frame. 

Before he was taken from the bar, he wished to say something, 
which was to acknowledge, that his trial had been fair, and to ex¬ 
press a wish, that his nation would not revenge his death, or come 
to war on his acccount.—Being asked as he was taken off, by some 
of those accompanying the sheriff, in conducting him to jail, whom 
he thought the judges to be, before whom he had been tried, and 
who were on the bench in scarlet robes, which was the official 
custom of that time, and being of the Delaware nation, amongst 


TRIAL OF MAMACHTAGA. 


161 


whom Moravian missionaries had been a good deal, and as it would 
seem, mixing some recollections which he had derived from this 
source, he answered that the one, meaning the chief justice, was 
God, and the other Jesus Christ. 

At the same court of Oyer and Terminer was convicted a man for 
the crime against nature, and at a court of Quarter Sessions a short 
time after, another person had been convicted of larceny, and was 
now confined in the same jail, and in fact in the same room, for 
there was but one, with the Indian and the white man before-men¬ 
tioned ; and though, upon account of his youth and family connec¬ 
tions, the jury in finding a verdict had recommended him to pardon, 
for which the supreme executive council of the State had been peti¬ 
tioned some time before ; nevertheless he could not restrain the 
wickedness of his mind and had prevailed upon the white man, 
guilty of the crime against nature, as he had to die at any rate, to 
save the disgrace of being hanged, to consent to be murdered by the 
Indian. The creature was extremely simple, and had actually con¬ 
sented, and the young culprit had prepared a knife for the purpose, 
but the Indian refused, though solicited, and offered liquor, saying 
that he had killed white men enough already. 

A child of the jailer had been taken sick, and had a fever. The 
Indian said he could cure it, if he had roots from the woods, which 
he knew. The jailer taking off his irons which he had on his feet, 
took his word that he would not make his escape, while he let him 
go to the woods to collect roots, telling him that if he did make his 
escape, the great council, the judges, would hang him, (the jailer,) 
in his place. But for greater security the jailer thought proper to 
accompany him to the woods, where roots were collected, which on 
their return were made use of in the cure of the child. 

The warrant for the execution of the Indian and of the white man, 
came to hand, and on the morning of the execution the Indian ex¬ 
pressed a wish to be painted, that he might die like a warrior. The 
jailer, as before, unironed him, and took him to the woods to collect 
his usual paints, which having done, he returned, and prepared him¬ 
self for the occasion, painting highly with the rouge which they use 
on great occasions. 

A great body of people assembled at the place of execution, the 
white man was hung first, and afterwards the Indian ascended a 
ladder placed to the cross timber of the gibbet; the rope being 
fastened*, when he was swung off it broke, and the Indian fell.— 
having swooned a little, he rose with a smile, and went up again, a 
stronger rope in the mean time having been provided, or rather two 
put about his neck together, so that his weight was supported, when 
he underwent the sentence of the law and was hanged till he 
was dead. 

This was during the Indian war, and this place on the verge of 
the settlement, so that if the Indian had taken a false step, and gone 
off from the jailer while he was looking for roots for the cure, or for 


162 


TRIAL OF MAMACHTAGA. 


painting, it would have been easy for him to have made his escape ; 
but such is the force of opinion, as we have before said, resulting 
from the way of thinking amongst the Indians, that he did not seem 
to think that he had the physical power to go. It was neverthe¬ 
less considered an imprudent thing in the jailer to run this risk. 
For if the Indian had made his escape, it is morally certain that in 
the then state of the public mind, the jailer himself would have fallen 
a sacrifice to the resentment of the people. 


THE 


STORY OF THE LAME IiYDIAY. 


In Pittsburg, (Pennsylvania,) about the year 1786, one evening 
just at twilight, there was found sitting in a porch, an Indian with a 
light pole in his hand. He spoke in broken English to the person 
of the house who first came out, and asked for milk. The person 
(a girl) ran in and returning with others of the family, they came to 
see what it was that had something like the appearance of a human 
skeleton. He was to the last degree emaciated, with scarcely the 
semblance of flesh upon his bones. One of his limbs had been 
wounded, and it had been on one foot and by the help of the pole 
that he had made his way to this place. Being questioned, he 
appeared too weak to give an account of himself, but asked for milk, 
which was given him, and word sent to the commanding officer of 
the garrison at that place, (General William Irwin) who sent a guard 
and had him taken to the garrison. After having had food, and being 
now able to give some account of himself, he was questioned by the 
interpreter, (Joseph Nicholas.) He related that he had been on 
Beaver river trapping, and had a difference with a Mingo Indian, 
who had shot him in the leg, because he had said he wished to come 
to the white people. 

Being toldjthat this was^not credible, but that he must tell the truth, 
and that in so doing he would fare the better, he gave the following 
account; to wit, that he was one of a party which had struck the 
settlement in the last moon , attacked a fort, killed some and took 
some prisoners. (This appeared to be a fort known by the name of 
Waltour’s Fort, by the account which he gave, which is at the 
distance of twenty-three miles from the town, on the Pennsylvania 
road towards Philadelphia, and within eight miles of what is now 
Greensburg.) He stated that it was there he received his wound. 

The fact was that the old man, Waltour, his daughter and two 
sons, were at work in the field, having their guns at some distance, 
which they seized on the appearance of the Indians, and made 
towards the fort. This was one of those stockades or block-houses 
to which a few families of the neighbourhood collected in times of 
danger, and going to their fields in the day, returned at night to this 
place of security. 


164 


STORY OF THE LAME INDIAN. 


These persons in the field were pursued by the Indians and the 
young woman taken. The old man with his sons kept up a fire as 
they retreated, and had got to the distance of about a hundred and 
fifty yards from the fort when the old man fell. An Indian had got 
upon him and was about to take his scalp, when one in the fort, 
directing his rifle, fired upon the Indian, who gave a horrid yell and 
made off, limping on one foot. This was in fact the very Indian, as 
it now appeared, that had come to town.—He confessed the fact, and 
said, that on the party with which he was, being pursued, he had hid 
himself in the bushes a few yards from the path along which the 
people from the fort came in pursuit of them. 

After the mischief was done, a party of our people had pursued 
the Indians to the Allegheny river, tracing their course, and had found 
the body of the young woman whom they had taken prisoner but 
had tomahawked and left. The Indian, as we have said, continuing 
his story to the interpreter, gave us to understand that he lay three 
days without moving from the place where he first threw himself 
into the bushes, until a pursuit might be over, lest he should be 
tracked ; that after this he had got along on his hands and feet, until 
he found this pole in the marsh which he had used to assist him, 
and in the mean time had lived on berries and roots ; that he had 
come to a post some distance, and thought of giving himself up, and 
lay all day on a hill above the place, thinking whether he would or 
not, but seeing that they were all militia men and no regulars he did 
not venture.—(The Indians well know the distinction between 
regulars and militia, and from these last they expect no quarter.) 

The post of which he spoke was about 12 miles from Pittsburg 
on the Pennsylvania road, at the crossings of what is called Turtle 
Creek. It was now thirty-eight days since the affair of Waltour’s 
Fort, and during that time this miserable creature had subsisted on 
plants and roots, and had made his way on one foot by the help of 
the pole. According to his account, he had first attempted a course 
to his own country, by crossing the Allegheny river a considerable 
distance above the town, but strength failing to accomplish this, he 
had wished to gain the garrison where the regular troops were, having 
been at this place before the war; and in fact he was now known to 
some of the garrison by the name of Davy. I saw the creature in 
the garrison after his confession, some days, and was struck with his 
endeavours to conciliate good will by smiling and affecting placability 
and a friendly disposition. 

The question now was what to do with him. From ti$e mode of 
war carried on by the savages, they are not entitled to the laws of 
nations. But are we not bound by the laws of nature, to spare 
those that are in our power; and does not our right to put to death 
cease, when an enemy ceases to have it in his power to injure us. 

I his diable boitieux , or devil on two sticks, as they may be called, 
his leg and his pole, would not seem to be likely to come to war 
again. 

In the mean time the widow of the man who had been killed at 


STORY OF THE LAME INDIAN. 


165 


AVal tour’s Fort, and mother of the young woman who had been 
taken prisoner and found tomahawked, accompanied by a deputation 
ol the people of the settlement, came to the garrison, and addressing 
themselves to the commanding officer, demanded that the Indian 
should be delivered up, that it might be done with him as the widow 
and mother and relations of the deceased should think proper. After 
much deliberation, the country being greatly dissatisfied that he was 
spared, and a great clamour prevailing through the settlement, it was 
thought advisable, to let them take him, and he was accordingly 
delivered up to the militia of the party which came to demand him. 
He was put upon a horse and carried off with a view to take him to 
the spot where the first mischief had been done, (Waltour’s Fort.) 
But as they were carrying him along, his leg, the fracture of which 
by this time was almost healed, (the surgeon of the garrison having 
attended to it,) was broken again by a fall from the horse, which had 
happened some way in carrying him. 

The intention of the people was to summon a jury of the country 
and try him, at least for the sake of form, but as they alledged, in 
order to ascertain whether he was the identical Indian that had been 
of the party at Waltour’s Fort, though it is not very probable that 
he would have had an impartial trial, there having been a considera¬ 
ble prejudice against him. The circumstance of being an Indian 
would have been sufficient to condemn him. The idea was, in case 
of a verdict against him, which seemed morally certain, to execute 
him, according to the Indian manner, by torture and burning. For 
the fate of Crawford and others was at this time in the minds of the 
people, and they thought retaliation* a principle of natural justice. 

But while the Jury were collecting, sometime must elapse, that 
night at least, for he* was brought to the Fort, or block-house in the 
evening. Accordingly a strong guard was appointed to take care of 
him, while in the mean time, one who had been deputed sheriff 
went to summon a jury, and others to collect wood, and materials 
for the burning, and to fix upon the place, which was to be the 
identical spot where he had received his wound, while about to scalp 
the man whom he had shot in the field, just as he was raising the 
scalp halloo, twisting his hand in the hair of the head, and brandish¬ 
ing his seal ping-knife. It is to be presumed that the guard may be 
said to have been off their guard somewhat on account of the lame¬ 
ness of the prisoner, and the seeming impossibility that he could 
escape; but it so turned out that while engaged in conversation, on the 
burning that was to take place, or by some other cause of inattention, 
he had been permitted to climb up at a remote corner of the block¬ 
house, get to the joists, from thence upon the wall-plate of the 
block-house, and from thence, as was supposed, to get down on the 
outside between the roof and the wall-plate, for the block-house was 
so constructed that the roof overjutted the wall of the block-house, 
resting on the ends of the joists that protruded a foot or two beyond 
the wall, so that those within could fire down upon the Indians, who 
should approach the house to set fire to it, or attempt the door. But 
towards morning the Indian was missed, and when the jury met, 


166 


STORY OF THE LAME INDIAN* 


there was no Indian to be brought before them. Search had been 
made by the guard every where ; the jury joined in the search, and 
the militia went out in all directions, in order to track his course and 
regain the prisoner.—But no discovery could be made, and the 
guard were much blamed for their want of vigilance, though some 
supposed that he had been let go from feelings of humanity, that 
they might not be under the necessity of burning him. 

The search had been abandoned; but three days after this, a lad 
looking for his horses, saw an Indian with a pole or long stick, just 
getting on one of them by the help of a log, or trunk of a fallen tree ; 
he had made a bridle of bark, as it appeared, which was on the 
horse’s head, and with which, and his stick guiding the horse, he 
set off at a smart trot, in a direction towards the frontier of the set¬ 
tlement. The boy was afraid to discover himself, or reclaim his 
horse, but ran home and gave the alarm, on which a party, in the 
course of the day, was collected, and started in pursuit of the Indian ; 
they tracked the horse until it was dark, and were then obliged to 
lie by; in the morning, taking it again, they tracked the horse as 
before, but found the course varied, taking into branches of streams 
to prevent pursuit, and which greatly delayed them, requiring con¬ 
siderable time to trace the stream and find where the horse had taken 
the bank and come out—sometimes taking along hard ridges, though 
not directly in his course, where the tracks of the horse could not be 
seen. In this manner he had gotten on to the Allegheny river, 
where they found the horse with the bark bridle, and where he 
appeared to have been left but a short time before. The sweat was 
scarcely dry upon his sides ; *for the weather was warm and he 
appeared to have been ridden hard ; the distance he had come was 
about 90 miles. It was presumed the Indian 4iad swam the river, 
into the uninhabited and what was then called the Indian country, 
where it was unsafe for the small party that were in pursuit to 
follow. 

After the war, I took some pains to inform myself whether he had 
made his way good to the Indian towns, the nearest of which was 
Sandusky, at the distance of about two hundred miles ; but it ap¬ 
peared that after all his efforts he had been unsuccessful, and had 
not reached home. He had been drowned in the river or famished 
in the woods, or his broken limb had occasioned his death. 

In like manner I have made inquiry respecting the Indian who 
had Dr. Knight in custody when he made his escape ; for I had 
myself taken down, from the Doctor’s own mouth, the narrative of 
his escape, and could not conceive, nor could the Doctor say, why 
it was that the gun, when he presented it to the Indian, and snapped 
it, did not go off. The Indian himself had been surprised at it, and 
did not recollect that he had plugged the touch-hole to keep it from 
the wet, nor did the Doctor discover this.—The Indian, to excuse 
himself, had represented the Doctor as a man of great stature and 
strength, but the Indians laughed at him when they came to know, 
and were informed by some from the other town that had seen 
him sent on, that he was a man of small stature and of little strength. 


AFFECTING HISTORY 

OF THE DREADFUL DISTRESSES OF 

FREDERICK MAAMEOFS FAMILY. 


Frederick Manheim, an industrious German, with his family, 
consisting of his wife, Catharine a daughter of eighteen years of age, 
and Maria and Christina, his youngest children, (twins,) about six¬ 
teen, resided near the river Mohawk, eight miles west of Johnston. 
On the 19th of October, 1779, the father being at work at some 
distance from his habitation, and the mother and eldest daughter on 
a visit at a neighbor’s, two hostile Canassadaga Indians rushed in 
and captured the twin sisters. 

The party to which these savages belonged, consisted of fifty 
warriors, who, after securing twenty-three of the inhabitants of that 
neighborhood, (among whom was the unfortunate Frederick Man¬ 
heim,) and firing their houses, retired for four days with the utmost 
precipitancy, till they were quite safe from pursuit. The place 
where they halted on the evening of the day of rest, was a thick 
pine swamp, which rendered the darkness of an uncommonly 
gloomy night still more dreadful. The Indians kindled a fire, 
which they had not done before, and ordered their prisoners, whom 
they kept together, to refresh themselves with such provisions as 
they had. The Indians ate by themselves. Instead of retiring to 
rest after supping, the appalled captives observed their enemies 
busied in operations which boded nothing good. Two saplings 
were pruned clear of branches up to the very top, and all the brush 
cleared away for several rods around them. While this was doing, 
others were splitting pitch-pine billets into small splinters above five 
inches in length, and as small as one’s little finger, sharpening one 
end, and dipping the other in melted turpentine. 

At length, with countenances distorted by infernal fury, and with 
hideous yells, the two savages who had captured the hapless Maria 
and Christina, leaped into the midst of their circle, and dragged 
those ill-fated maidens, shrieking, from the embraces of their com¬ 
panions. These warriors had disagreed about whose property the 
girls should be, as they had jointly seized them ; and, to terminate 
the dispute, agreeably to the abominable usage of the savages, it was 
determined by the chiefs of the party, that the prisoners, who gave 
rise to the contention, should be destroyed ; and that their captors 
should be; the principal agents in the execrable business. These 
15 


168 


corbly’s family. 


furies, assisted by their comrades, stripped the forlorn girls, already 
convulsed with apprehensions, and tied each to a sappling, with 
their hands as high extended above their heads as possible; and 
then pitched them, from their knees to their shoulders, with upwards 
of six hundred of the sharpened splinters above described, which, at 
every puncture, were attended with screams of distress, that echoed 
and re-echoed through the wilderness. And then, to complete the 
infernal tragedy, the splinters, all standing erect on the bleeding 
victims, were every one set on fire, and exhibited a scene of mon¬ 
strous misery, beyond the power of speech to describe, or even 
the imagination to conceive. It was not until near three hours had 
elapsed from the commencement of their torments, and they had 
lost almost every resemblance of the human form, that these hap¬ 
less virgins sunk into the arms of their deliverer, Death. 


SUFFERINGS OF THE 

Rev. JOHN CORBLY AN1> FAMILY. 

RELATED IN A LETTER TO THE REV. WM. ROGERS. 


Dear Sir: —The following is a just and true account of the tragi¬ 
cal scene, of my family’s falling by the savages, which I related 
when at your house in Philadelphia, and you requested me to for¬ 
ward in writing. On the second Sabbath in May, in the year 1782, 
being my appointment at one of my meeting houses, about a mile 
from my dwelling house, I sat out with my dear wife and five chil¬ 
dren, for public worship.—Not suspecting any danger, I walked 
behind two hundred yards, with my Bible in my hand, meditating— 
as I was thus employed, all on a sudden, I was greatly alarmed 
with the frightful shrieks of my dear family before me—I immedi¬ 
ately ran, with all the speed I could, vainly hunting a club as I ran, 
till I got within forty yards of them ; my poor wife seeing me, cried 
to me to make my escape—an Indian ran up to shoot me—I then 
fled, and by so doing out-ran him.—My wife had a sucking child 
in her arms : this little infant they killed and scalped.—They then 
struck my wife several times, but not getting her down, the Indian 
who aimed to shoot me, ran to her, shot her through the body, and 
scalped her: my little boy, an only son, about six years old, they 
sunk the hatchet into his brains, and thus despatched him. A 
daughter, besides the infant, they also killed and scalped. My 
eldest daughter, who is yet alive, was hid in a tree, about twenty 
yards from the place where the rest were killed, and saw the whole 
proceedings. She, seeing the Indians all go off, as she thought, got 
up, and deliberately crept out from the hollow trunk ; but one of 


/ 




Morgan’s advfnture. 


168 


them espying her, ran hastily up, knocked her down, and scalped 
her—also her only surviving sister, one on whose head they did not 
leave more than an inch round, either of flesh or skin, besides 
taking a piece out of her skull. She, and the before-mentioned one, 
are still miraculously preserved, though, as you must think, I have 
had, and still have, a great deal of trouble and expense with them, 
besides anxiety about them, insomuch that I am, as to worldly 
circumstances, almost ruined. I am yet in hopes of seeing them 
cured; they still, blessed be God, retain their senses, notwith¬ 
standing the painful operations they have already and must yet pass 
through. 

Muddy Creek, Washington > 

County, July 8, 1785. $ 


REMARKABLE ENCOUNTER 

OF A 

WHITE MAN WITH TWO EADIAAS. 

IN A LETTER TO A GENTLEMAN OF PHILADELPHIA. 

Dear Sir :—I wrote you a note, a few days ago, in which I pro¬ 
mised you the particulars of an affair between a white man of this 
county, and two Indians.—The story is as follows : 

The white man is upwards of sixty years of age ; his name is 
David Morgan, a kinsman of Col. Morgan, of the Rifle Battalion. 
This man had, through fear of the Indians, fled to a fort about 
twenty miles above the province line, and near the east side of the 
Monongahela river. From thence he sent some of his younger 
children to his plantation, which was a mile distant, there to do 
some business in the field. He afterwards thought fit to follow, 
and see how they fared. Getting to his field, and seating himself 
upon the fence, within view of his children, where they were at 
work, he espied two Indians making towards them; on which he 
called to his children to make their escape. The Indians immedi¬ 
ately bent their course towards him. He made the best haste to 
escape away, that his age and consequent infirmity would permit; 
but soon found he would be overtaken, which made him think of 
defence. Being armed with a good rifle, he faced about, and found 
himself under the necessity of running four or five perches towards 
the Indians, in order to obtain shelter behind a tree of sufficient size. 

This unexpected manoeuvre obliged the Indians, who were close 
by, to stop, where they had but small timber to shelter behind, 
which gave Mr. Morgan an opportunity of shooting one of them 
dead upon th© spot. The other, taking the advantage of Morgan’s 




170 


Morgan’s adventure. 


empty gun, advanced upon him, and put him to flight a second 
time, and being lighter ot foot than the old man, soon came up 
within a few paces, when he fired at him, but fortunately missed 
him. On this, Mr. Morgan faced about again, to try his iortune, 
and clubbed his firelock. The Indian, by this time, had got his 
tomahawk in order for a throw, at which they are very dexterous. 
Morgan made the blow, and the Indian the throw, almost at the same 
instant, by which the little finger was cut off Morgan’s left hand, 
and the one next to it almost off, and his gun broke off by the lock. 
Now they came to close grips. Morgan put the Indian down ; but 
soon found himself overturned, and the Indian upon him, feeling for 
his knife, and yelling most hideously, as their manner is when they 
look upon victory to be certain. However, a woman’s apron, which 
the Indian had plundered out of a house in the neighborhood, and 
tied on him, above his knife, was now in his way, and so hindered 
him getting at it quickly, that Morgan got one of his fingers fast in 
his mouth, and deprived him of the use of that hand, by holding it, 
and disconcerted him considerably by chewing it; all the while 
observing how he would come on with his knife. At length the 
Indian had got hold of his knife, but so far towards the blade, that 
Morgan got a small hold on the hinder end; and as the Indian 
pulled it out of the scabbard, Morgan giving his finger a severe 
screw with his teeth, twitched it out through his hand, cutting it 
most grievously. By this time they were both got partly on their 
feet; the Indian was endeavoring to disengage himself; but Morgan 
held fast by the finger, and quickly applied the point of the knife to 
the side of the savage ; a bone happening in the way, prevented its 
penetrating any great depth, but a second blow, directed more to¬ 
wards the belly, found free passage into his bowels. The old man 
turned the point upwards, made a large wound, burying the knife 
therein, and so took his departure instantly to the fort, with the 
news of his adventure. 

On the report of Mr. Morgan, a party went out from the fort, and 
found the first Indian where he had fallen; the second they found 
not yet dead, at one hundred yards distance from the scene of action, 
hid in the top of a fallen tree, where he had picked the knife out of 
his body, after which had come out parched corn, &c., and had 
bound up his wound with the apron aforementioned ; and on first 
sight he saluted them with, How do do, broder, how do do, broder ? 
But alas ! poor savage, their brotherhood to him extended only to 
tomahawing, scalping, and, to gratify some peculiar feelings of their 
own, skinning them both ; and they have made drum heads of 
their skins. 

Westmoreland, April 26 , 1779 . 


SINGULAR PROWESS OF A WOMAN, 

IN A COMBAT WITH SOME INDIANS. 

RELATED IN A LETTER TO A LADY OF PHILADELPHIA. 


Madam I have written to Mr.-, of your city, an account 

of an affair between a white man and two Indians. I am now to 
give you a relation in which you will see how a person of your sex 
acquitted herself in defence of her own life and that of her husband 
and children. 

The lady who is the subject of this story, is named Experience 
Bozarth.—She lives on a creek called Dunkard Creek, in the south¬ 
west corner of this county. About the middle of March last, two or 
three families, who were afraid to stay at home, gathered to her 
house and there stayed—looking on themselves to be safer than 
when all scattered about at their own houses. 

On a certain day, some of the children thus collected, came run¬ 
ning in from play, in great haste, saying, there were ugly red men. 
One of the men in the house stepped to the door, where he received 
a ball in the side of his breast, which caused him to fall back into 
the house. The Indian was immediately in over him, and engaged 
with another man who was in the house. The man tossed the 
Indian on a bed, and called fora knife to kill him. (Observe, these 
were all the men that were in the house.) Now Mrs. Bozarth 
appears the only help, who not finding a knife at hand, took up 
an axe that lay by, and with one blow cut out the brains of the 
Indian. At that instant, (for all was instantaneous,) a second Indian 
entered the door, and shot the man dead, who was engaged with the 
Indian on the bed. Mrs. Bozarth turned to this second Indian, and 
with her axe gave him several large cuts, some of which let his en¬ 
trails appear. He bawled out murder, murder. On this, sundry 
other Indians (who had hitherto been fully employed, killing some 
children out of doors) came rushing to his relief; the head of one of 
these Mrs. Bozarth clave in two with her axe, as he stuck it in at 
the door, which laid him flat upon the ground. Another snatched 
hold of the wounded, bellowing fellow, and pulled him out of doors, 
and Mrs. Bozarth, with the assistance of the man who was first shot 
in the door, and by this time a little recovered, shut the door after 
them, and fastened it, where they kept garrison for several days, 
15* 



172 


MASSY HERBESON. 


the dead white man and dead Indian both in the house with tHemy 
and the Indians about the house besieging them. At length they 
were relieved by a party sent for that purpose. 

This whole affair, to shutting the door, was not, perhaps, more 
than three minutes in acting. 

Westmoreland, April 26, 1779. 


AN ACCOUNT OF THE SUEFERINGS OF 

MASSY HERBESON 

AND HER FAMILY, 

Who were taken Prisoners by a party of Indians.—Given 
on oatli , before John Wilkins, Esq. one of the Justices 
of the Peace for the Commonwealth of Penn'a. 


Massy Herbeson, on her oath, according to law, being taken 
before John Wilkins, Esq. one of the commonwealth’s justices of 
the peace in and for the county of Alleghany, deposeth and saith, 
that on the 22d day of this instant, she was taken from her own 
house, within two hundred yards of Reed’s block-house, which is 
called twenty-five miles from Pittsburg; her husband, being one of 
the spies, was from home; two of the scouts had lodged with her 
that night, but had left her house about sunrise, in order to go to the 
block-house, and had left the door standing wide open. Shortly 
after the two scouts went away, a number of Indians came into the 
house, and drew her out of bed by the feet; the two eldest children, 
who also lay in another bed were drawn out in the same manner ; a 
younger child, about one year old, slept with the deponent. The 
Indians then scrambled about the articles in the house ; whilst they 
were at this work, the deponent went out of the house, and hallooed 
to the people in the block-house ; one of the Indians then ran up 
and stopped her mouth, another ran up with his tomahawk drawn, 
and a third ran and seized the tomahawk and called her his squaw; 
this last Indian claimed her as his, and continued by her; about 
fifteen of the Indians then ran down toward the block-house and 
fired their guns at the block and store-house, in consequence of 
which one soldier was killed and another wounded, one having been 
at the spring, and the other in coming or looking out of the store¬ 
house. This deponent telling the Indians there were about forty 
men in the block-house, and each man had two guns, the Indians 
went to them that were firing at the block-house, and brought them 
back.—They then began to drive the deponent and her children 
away ; but a boy, about three years old, being unwilling to leave 
the house, they took it by the heels, and dashed it against the house, 





MASSY HERBESON. 


173 


then stabbed and scalped it. They then took the deponent and the 
two other children to the top of the hill, where they stopped until 
they tied up the plunder they had got. While they were busy 
about this, the deponent counted them, and the number amounted to 
thirty-two, including two white men, that were with them, painted 
like the Indians. 

That several of the Indians could speak English, and that she 
knew three or four of them very well, having often seen them go up 
and down the Allegheny river ; two of them she knew to be Seneccas, 
and two Munsees, who had got their guns mended by her husband 
about two years ago. That they sent two Indians with her, and 
the others took their course towards Puckty. That she, the children, 
and the two Indians had not gone above two hundred yards, when 
the Indians caught two of her uncle’s horses, put her and the 
youngest child on one, and one of the Indians and the other child 
on the other. That the two Indians then took her and the children 
to the Allegheny river, and took them over in bark canoes, as they 
could not get the horses to swim the river. After they had crossed 
the river, the oldest child, a boy of about five years of age, began to 
mourn for his brother, when one of the Indians tomahawked and 
scalped him. That they travelled all day very hard, and that night 
arrived at a large camp covered with bark, which, by appearance, 
might hold fifty men ; that night they took her about three hundred 
yards from the camp, into a large dark bottom, bound her arms, gave 
her some bed clothes, and lay down one on each side of her.—That 
the next morning they took her into a thicket on the hill side, and 
one remained with her till the middle of the day, while the other 
went to watch the path, lest some white people should follow them. 
They then exchanged places during the remainder of the day ; she 
got a piece of dry venison, about the bulk of an egg, that day, and a 
piece about the same size tl>e day they were marching ; that evening, 
(Wednesday the 23d) they moved her to a new place, and secured 
her as the night before : during the day of the 23d, she made several 
attempts to get the Indian’s gun or tomahawk, that was guarding 
her, and, had she succeeded, she would have put him to death. She 
was nearly detected in trying to get the tomahawk from his belt. 

The next morning (Thursday) one of the Indians went out, as on 
the day before, to watch the path. The other lay down and fell 
asleep. When she found he was sleeping, she stole her short gown, 
hankerchief, a child’s frock, and then made her escape;—the sun 
was then about half an hour high—that she took her course from the 
Alleghany, in order to deceive the Indians, as they would naturally 
pursue her that way ; that day she travelled along Conequenessing 
creek.—The next day she altered her course, and, as she believes, 
tell upon the waters of Pine Creek, which empties into the Allegheny. 
Thinking this not her best course, she took over some dividing 
ridges,—i a y on a dividing ridge on Friday night, and on Saturday 
came to Squaw run—continued down the run until an Indian, or 
some other person, shot a deer; she saw the person about one 


174 


MASSY HERBESON. 


hundred and fifty yards from her—the deer running and the dog 
pursuing it, which, from the appearance, she supposed to be an 
Indian dog. 

She then altered her course, but again came to the same run, and 
continued down it until she got so tired that she was obliged to lie 
down, it having rained on her all that day and the night before ; she 
lay there that night; it rained constantly ; on Sunday morning she 
proceeded down the run until she came to the Allegheny river, aud 
continued down the river till she came opposite to Carter’s house, 
on the inhabited side, where she made a noise, and James Closier 
brought her over the river to Carter’s house. 

Sworn before me, at Pittsburg, this 28th day of May, 1792. 

JOHN WILKINS. 


SUFFERINGS OF 

PETER WILLIAMSON, 

ONE OF THE SETTLERS IN THE BACK PARTS OF PENNSYLVANIA. 


WRITTEN BY HI3ISELF. 


I was bom within ten miles of the town of Aberdeen, in the north 
of Scotland ; at eight years of age, being a sturdy boy, I was taken 
notice of by two fellows belonging to a vessel, employed (as the 
trade then was) by some of the worthy merchants of Aberdeen, in 
that villainous and execrable practice, of stealing young children from 
their parents, and selling them as slaves in the plantations abroad, 
and on board the ship easily cajoled by them, where I was conducted 
between decks, to some others they had kidnapped in the same man¬ 
ner, and in about a month’s time set sail for America. When 
arrived at Philadelphia, the captain sold us at about sixteen pounds 
per head. What became of my unhappy companions I never knew ; 
but it was my lot to be sold for seven years, to one of my country¬ 
men, who had in his youth been kidnapped like myself, but from 
another town. 

Having no children of his own, and commisserating my condition, 
he took care of me, indulged me in going to school, where I went 
every winter for five years, and made a tolerable proficiency. With 
this good master, I continued till he died, and, as a reward for my 
faithful service, he left me two hundred pounds currency, which was 
then about a hundred and twenty pounds sterling, his best horse, 
saddle, and all his wearing apparel. 

Being now seventeen years old, and my own master, having 
money in my pocket, and all other necessaries, I employed myself in 
jobbing for near seven years ; when I resolved to settle, and married 
the daughter of a substantial planter. My father-in-law made me a 
deed of gift of a tract of land that lay (unhappily for me, as it has 
since proved) on the frontiers of the province of Pennsylvania, near 
the forks of Delaware, containing about two hundred acres, thirty of 
which were well cleared and fit for immediate use, on which were a 
good house and barn. The place pleasing me well, I settled on it. 
My money I expended in buying stock, household furniture, and 


176 


Williamson’s narrative. 


implements for out-of-door work ; and being happy in a good wife, 
my felicity was complete : but in 1754, the Indians, who had for a 
long time before ravaged and destroyed other parts of America 
unmolested, began now to be very troublesome on the frontiers of 
our province, where they generally appeared in small skulking 
parties, committing great devastations. 

Terrible and shocking to human nature were the barbarities daily 
-committed by these savages ! Scarce did a day pass but some 
unhappy family or other fell victims to savage cruelty. Terrible, 
indeed, it proved to me, as well as to many others ; I that was now 
happy in an easy state of life, blessed with an affectionate and tender 
wife, became suddenly one of the most unhappy of mankind : scarce 
can I sustain the shock which for ever recurs on recollecting the 
fatal second of October, 1754. My wife that day went from home, 
to visit some of her relations ; as I staid up later than usual, expecting 
her return, no one being in the house besides myself, how great was 
my surprize and terror, when, about eleven o’clock at night, I heard 
the dismal war-whoop of the savages, and found that my house was 
beset by them. 1 flew to my chamber window, and perceived them 
to be twelve in number. Having my gun loaded, I threatened them 
with death, if they did not retire. But how vain and fruitless are 
the efforts of one man against the united force of so many blood¬ 
thirsty monsters ! one of them that could speak English, threatened 
me in return, “ That if I did not come out they would burn me alive,” 
adding, however, “ That if I would come out and surrender myself 
prisoner they would not kill me.” In such deplorable circumstances, 
I chose to rely on their promises, rather than meet death by rejecting 
them ; and accordingly went out of the house, with my gun in my 
hand, not knowing that I had it. Immediately on my approach, they 
rushed on me like tigers, and instantly disarmed me. Having me 
thus in their power, they bound me to a tree, went into the house, 
plundered it of every thing they could carry off, and then set fire to 
It, and consumed what was left before my eyes. Not satisfied with 
this, they set fire to my barn, stable, and out houses, wherein were 
about 200 bushels of wheat, six cows, four horses, and five sheep, 
all which were consumed to ashes. 

Having thus finished the execrable business, about which they 
came, one of the monsters came to me with a tomahawk and threaten¬ 
ed me with the worst of deaths, if I would not go with them. I 
agreed to go; they then untied me, and gave me a load to carry, 
under which I travelled all that night, full of the most terrible appre¬ 
hensions, lest my unhappy wife should likewise have fallen into 
their cruel power. At day break, my infernal masters ordered me 
to lay down my load, when, tying my hands again round a tree, 
they forced the blood out at my fingers’ ends. And then seeing 
them kindling a fire near the tree to which I was bound, the most 
dreadful agonies seized me, from the apprehension that I was going 
to be made a sacrifice to their barbarity. The fire being made, they 
for some time danced round me, whooping, hallooing and shrieking 


Williamson’s narrative. 


177 


in a frightful manner. Being satisfied with this sort of mirth, they 
proceeded in another way ; taking the burning coals, and sticks 
ilarning with fire at the ends, holding them to my face, head, hands, 
and feet, and at the same time threatening to burn me entirely if I 
cried out: thus tortured almost to death, 1 suffered their brutalities, 
without being allowed to vent my anguish otherwise than by shed¬ 
ding silent tears ; and these being observed, they took fresh coals, 
and applied them near my eyes, telling me my face was wet, and 
that they would dry it for me, which indeed they cruelly did. How I 
underwent these tortures has been matter of wonder to me, but God 
enabled me to wait with more than common patience for the deliver¬ 
ance I daily prayed for. 

At length they sat down round the fire, and roasted the meat, of 
which they had robbed my dwelling.—When they had supped, they 
offered some to me: though it may easily be imagined 1 had but 
little appetite to eat, after the tortures and miseries 1 had suffered, yet 
was I forced to seem pleased with what they offered me, lest by 
refusing it, they should resume their hellish practices. W hat I could 
not eat, I contrived to hide, they having unbound me till they 
imagined I had eat all; but then they bound me as before, in which 
deplorable condition I was forced to continue the whole day. When 
the sun was set, they put out the fire, and covered the ashes with 
leaves, as is their custom, that the white people might not discover 
any traces of their having been there. 

Going from thence along the Susquehanna, for the space of six 
miles, loaded as I was before, we arrived at a spot near the Apalachian 
mountains, or Blue-hills, where they hid their plunder under logs of 
wood. From thence they proceeded to a neighbouring house, 
occupied by one Jacob Snider and his unhappy family, consisting of 
Ids wife, five children, and a young man, his servant.—They soon 
got admittance into the unfortunate man’s house, where they 
immediately, without the least remorse, scalped both parents and 
children : nor could the tears, the shrieks, or cries of poor innocent 
children, prevent their horrid massacre : having thus scalped them, 
and plundered the house of every thing that was moveable, they set 
fire to it, and left the distressed victims amidst the flames. 

Thinking the young man belonging to this unhappy family, would 
be of service to them in carrying part of their plunder, they spared 
his life, and loaded him and myself with what they had here got, 
and again marched to the Blue-hills, where they stowed their goods 
as before. My fellow sufferer could not support the cruel treatment 
which we were obliged to endure, and complaining bitterly to me of 
his being unable to proceed any farther, I endeavoured to animate 
him, but all in vain, for he still continued his moans and tears, 
which one of the savages perceiving, as we travelled along, came up 
to us, and with his tomahawk gave him a blow on the head, which 
felled the unhappy youth to the ground, whom they immediately 
scalped and left. The suddenness of this murder shocked me to 
such a degree, that I was in a manner motionless, expecting my fate 


178 


Williamson’s narrative. 


would soon be the same: however, recovering my distracted thoughts, 
I dissembled my anguish as well as I could from the barbarians ; 
but still, such was my terror, that for some time I scarce knew the 
days of the week, or what I did. 

They still kept on their course near the mountains, where they 
lay skulking four or five days, rejoicing at the plunder they had got. 
When provisions became scarce, they made their way towards the 
Susquehanna, and passed near another house, inhabited by an old 
man, whose name was John Adams, with his wife and four small 
children, and meeting with no resistance, they immediately scalped 
the mother and her children before the old man’s eyes. Inhuman 
and horrid as this was, it did not satisfy them ; for when they had 
murdered the poor woman, they acted with her in such a brutal 
manner, as decency will not permit me to mention. The unhappy 
husband, not being able to avoid the sight, entreated them to put an 
end to his miserable being; but they were as deaf to the tears and 
entreaties of this venerable sufferer, as they had been to those of the 
others, and proceeded to burn and destroy his house, barn, corn, 
hay, cattle, and every thing the poor man, a few hours before, was 
master of. Having saved what they thought proper from the flames, 
they gave the old man, feeble, weak, and in the miserable condition 
he then was, as well as myself, burdens to carry, and loading them¬ 
selves likewise with bread and meat, pursued their journey towards 
the Great Swamp. Here they lay for eight or nine days, diverting 
themselves, at times, in barbarous cruelties on the old man : some¬ 
times they would strip him naked, and paint him all over with various 
sorts of colours : at other times they would pluck the white hairs 
from his head, and tauntingly tell him, “ He was a fool for living so 
long, and that they should shew him kindness in putting him out of 
the world.” In vain were all his tears, for daily did they tire them¬ 
selves with the various means they tried to torment him; sometimes 
tying him to a tree, and vrhipping him ; at other times, scorching 
his furrowed cheeks with red-hot coals, and burning his legs quite to 
the knees. One night after he had been thus tormented, whilst he 
and I were condoling each other at the miseries we daily suffered, 
25 other Indians arrived, bringing with them 20 scalps and 3 prison¬ 
ers, who had unhappily fallen into their hands in Conogocheague, a 
small town near the river Susquehanna, chiefly inhabited by the 
Irish. These prisoners gave us some shocking accounts of the 
murders and the devastations committed in their parts ; a few 
instances of which will enable the reader to guess at the treatment 
the provincials have suffered. This party, who now joined us, had 
it not, I found, in their power to begin their violences so soon as 
those who visited my habitation; the first of their tragedies being 
on the 25th of October, 1754, when John Lewis, with his wife and 
three small children, were inhumanly scalped and murdered ; and 
his house, barn, and every thing he possessed, burnt and destroyed. 
On the 28th, lacob Miller, with his wife and six of his family, with 
every thing on his plantations, shared the same fate. The 30th 7 


williamsox’s narrative. 


179 


Ihe house, mill, barn, twenty head of cattle, two teams of horses, 
and every thing belonging to George Folke, met with the like treat¬ 
ment, himself, wife, and all his miserable family, consisting of nine 
in number, being scalped, then cut in pieces and given to the swine. 
One of the substantial traders, belonging to the province, having 
business that called him some miles up the country, fell into the 
hands of these ruffians, who not only scalped him, but immediately 
roasted him before he was dead; then, like cannibals, for want of 
other food, eat his whole body, and of his head made what they 
called an Indian pudding. 

The three prisoners that were brought with these additional for¬ 
ces, constantly repiniug at their lot, and almost dead with their 
excessively hard treatment, contrived at last to make their escape ; 
but being far from their own settlements, and not knowing the coun¬ 
try, were soon after met by some other tribes, or nations, at war 
with us, and brought back. The poor creatures, almost famished 
for want of sustenance, having had none during the time of their 
escape, were no sooner in the power of the barbarians, than two of 
them were tied to a tree, and a great fire made round them, where 
they remained till they were terribly scorched and burnt; when one 
of the villains with his scalping knife ripped open their bellies, took 
out their entrails, and burned them before their eyes, whilst the 
others were cutting, piercing and tearing the flesh from their breasts, 
hands, arms and legs, with red hot irons, till they were dead. The 
third unhappy victim was reserved a few hours longer, to be, if pos¬ 
sible, sacrificed in a more cruel manner: his arms were tied close 
to his body, and a hole being dug, deep enough for him to stand up¬ 
right, he was put into it, and earth rammed and beat in all round 
his body, up to his neck, so that his head only appeared above 
ground ; they then scalped him, and there let him remain for three 
or four hours, in the greatest agonies; after which they made a 
small fire near his head, causing him to suffer the most excrutiating 
torments ; whilst the poor creature could only cry for mercy, by 
killing him immediately, for his brains were boiling in his head,— 
inexorable to all he said, they continued the fire, till his eyes gushed 
out of their sockets; such agonizing torments did this unhappy 
creature suffer for near two hours before he was quite dead.—They 
then cut off his head, and buried it with the other bodies ; my task 
being to dig the graves, which, feeble and terrified as I was, the dread 
of suffering the same fate enabled me to do. 

A great snow now falling, the barbarians were fearful, lest the 
white people should, by their tracks, find out their skulking retreats, 
which obliged them to make the best of their way to their winter 
quarters, about two hundred miles farther from any plantations or 
inhabitants. After a long and painful journey, being almost starved, 

I arrived with this infernal crew at Alamingo. There I found a 
number of wigwams, full of their women and children. Dancing, 
flinging and shouting were their general amusements. And in all 
their festivals and dances, they relate what successes they have had, 

za 


180 


Williamson’s narrative. 


and what damages they have sustained in their expeditions ; in 
which I now unhappily became part of their theme. The severity 
of the cold increasing, they stripped me of my clothes for their own- 
use, and gave me such as they usually wore themselves, being a 
piece of blanket, and a pair of mockasons, or shoes, with a yard of 
coarse cloth, to put round me instead of breeches. 

At Alamingo I remained near two months, till the snow was off the 
ground. Whatever thoughts I might have had of making my escape, 
to carry them into execution was impracticable, being so far from 
any plantations or white people, and the severe weather rendering 
my limbs in a manner quite stiff and motionless : however, I con¬ 
trived to defend myself against the inclemency of the weather as 
well as I could, by making myself a little wigwam with the bark of 
the trees, covering it with earth, which made it resemble a cave ; 
and, to prevent the ill effects of the cold, I kept a good fire always 
near the door. My liberty of going about, was, indeed, more than 
I could have expected, but they well knew the impracticability of 
my escaping from them. Seeing me outwardly easy and submis¬ 
sive, they would sometimes give me a little meat, but my chief food 
was Indian corn. At length the time came when they were pre¬ 
paring themselves for another expedition against the planters and 
Avhite people: but before they set out, they were joined by many 
other Indians. 

As soon as the snow was quite gone, they set forth on their jour¬ 
ney towards the back parts of the province of Pennsylvania; all 
leaving their wives and children behind in their wigwams. They 
were now a formidable body, amounting to near 150. My business 
was to carry what they thought proper to load me with, but they 
never entrusted me with a gun. We marched on several days with¬ 
out any thing particular occurring, almost famished for want of pro¬ 
visions ; for my part, I had nothing but a few ears of Indian corn, 
which I was glad to eat dry ; nor did the Indians themselves fare 
much better, but as we drew near the plantations, they were afraid 
to kill any game, lest the noise of their guns should alarm the 
inhabitants. 

When we again arrived at the Blue-hills, about thirty miles from 
the Irish settlements before-mentioned, we encamped for three days, 
though God knows, we had neither tents nor any thing else to de¬ 
fend us from the inclemency of the air, having nothing to lie on by 
night but the grass. 

During our stay here, a sort of council of war was held, when it 
was agreed to divide themselves into companies of about twenty 
men each ; after which every captain marched with his party where 
he thought proper. I still belonged to my old masters, but was left 
behind on the mountains with ten Indians, to stay till the rest should 
return ; not thinking it proper to carry me nearer to Conococheague, 
or the other plantations. 

Here I began to meditate an escape, and though I knew the 
country around very well, yet I was very cautious of giving the leas$ 


Williamson’s narrative. 


181 


suspicion of any such intention. However, the third day after the 
grand body left us, my companions thought proper to traverse the 
mountains in search of game for their subsistence, leaving me bound 
in such a manner that I could not escape : at night, when they 
returned, having unbound me, we all sat down together to supper on 
what they had killed, and soon after (being greatly fatigued with 
their day’s excursion) they composed themselves to rest, as usual. 
I now tried various ways to discover whether it was a scheme to 
prove my intentions or not; but after making a noise and walking 
about, sometimes touching them with my feet, I found there was no 
pretence. Then I resolved, if possible, to get one of their guns, and, 
if discovered, to die in my defence, rather than be taken: for that 
purpose I made various efforts to get one from under their heads, 
(where they always secured them,) but in vain. Disappointed in 
this, I began to despair of carrying my designs into execution : yet, 
after a little recollection, and trusting myself to the Divine protec¬ 
tion, 1 sat forward, naked and defenceless as I was. Such was my 
terror, however, that in going from them I halted, and paused every 
four or five yards, looking fearfully towards the spot where I had 
left them, lest they should awake and miss me; but when I was 
two hundred yards from them, I mended my pace, and made as 
much haste as 1 possibly could to the foot of the mountains; when, 
on a sudden, I was struck with the greatest terror on hearing the 
wood-cry, as it is called, which the savages I had left were making, 
upon missing their charge. The more my terror increased, the 
faster I pushed on, and, scarce knowing where I trod, drove through 
the woods with the utmost precipitation, sometimes falling and 
bruising myself, cutting my feet and legs against the stones in a 
miserable manner. But, faint and maimed as I was, I continued 
my flight till day-break, when, without having any thing to sustain 
nature, but a little corn left, I crept into a hollow tree, where I lay 
very snug, and returned my thanks to the Divine Being, that had 
thus far favored my escape. But my repose was in a few hours 
destroyed at hearing the voices of the savages near the place where 
I was hid, threatening and talking how they would use me, if they 
got me again. However, they at last left the spot, where I heard 
them, and I remained in my apartment all that day without further 
molestation. 

At night I ventured forwards again, frightened, thinking each 
twig that touched me a savage. The third day I concealed myself 
in like manner as before, and at night travelled, keeping off the main 
road as much as possible, which lengthened my journey many miles. 
But how shall I describe the terror I felt on the fourth night, when, 
by the rustling I made among the leaves, a party of Indians, that lay 
round a small fire, which I did not perceive, started from the ground, 
and, seizing their arms, ran from the fire amongst the woods. 
Whether to move forward or rest where I was I knew not, when to 
my great surprise and joy, I was relieved by a parcel of swine that 
made towards the place where I guessed the savages to be; who, on 


182 


Williamson’s narrative. 


seeing them, imagined that they had caused the alarm, very merrily 
returned to the fire, and lay again down to sleep. Bruised, crippled 
and terrified as I was, I pursued my journey till break of day, when, 
thinking myself safe, I lay down under a great log, and slept till 
about noon. Before evening, I reached the summit of a great hill, 
and looking out if I could spy any habitations of white people, to 
my inexpressible joy, I saw some which I guessed to be about ten 
miles distant. 

In the morning I continued my journey towards the nearest 
cleared lands I had seen the day before, and, about four o’clock in 
the afternoon, arrived at the house of John Bell, an old acquaintance, 
where knocking at the door, his wife, who opened it, seeing me in 
such a frightful condition, flew from me, screaming, into the house. 
This alarmed the whole family, who immediately fled to their arms, 
and I was soon accosted by the master with his gun in his hand. 
But on making myself known, (for he before took me to be an 
Indian,) he immediately caressed me, as did all his family, with 
extraordinary friendship, the report of my being murdered by the 
savages having reached them some months before. For two days 
and nights they very affectionately supplied me with all necessaries, 
and carefully attended me till my spirits and limbs were pretty well 
recovered, and I thought myself able to ride, when I borrowed of 
these good people a horse and some clothes, and set forward for my 
father-in-law’s house in Chester county, about one hundred and 
forty miles thence, where I arrived on the 4th day of January, 1755, 
(but scarce one of the family could credit their eyes, believing with 
the people I had lately left, that I had fallen a prey to the Indians,) 
where I w’as received and embraced by the whole family with great 
affection; upon enquiring for my dear wife, I found she had been 
dead two months ! This fatal news greatly lessened the joy I other¬ 
wise should have felt at my deliverance from the dreadful state and 
company I had been in. 


REMARKABLE ADVENTURES 

OF 

JACKSON JO II ON NET, 

A SOLDIER UNDER GENERAL HARMAR AND GENERAL ST. CLAIR, 

Containing an account of his Captivity , Sufferings and Escape 
from the Kickappoo Indians . 


There is seldom a more difficult task undertaken by man, than 
the act of writing a narrative of a person’s own life; especially 
where the incidents border on the marvellous. Prodigies but seldom 
happen ; and the veracity of the relaters of them is still less frequently 
vouched for ; however, as the dispensations of Providence towards 
me have been too striking not to make a deep and grateful impres¬ 
sion, and as the principal part of them can be attested to by living 
evidences, 1 shall proceed, being confident that the candid reader will 
pardon the inaccuracies of an illiterate soldier, and that the tender¬ 
hearted will drop the tear of sympathy, when they realise the idea 
of the sufferings of such of our unfortunate country folks as fall into 
the hands of the western Indians, whose tender mercies are cruelties. 

1 was born and brought up at Falmouth, Casco-bay, where I 
resided until I attained to the seventeenth year of my age. My 
parents were poor, the farm we occupied small and hard to cultivate, 
their family large and expensive, and every way fitted to spare me 
to seek a seperate fortune ; at least these ideas had gained so great 
an ascendancy in my mind, that I determined, with the consent of 
my parents, to look out for a way of supporting myself. 

Having fixed on the matter firmly, I took leave of my friends, and 
sailed, the 1st of May 1791, on board a coasting schooner for Boston. 
Having arrived in this capitol, and entirely out of employment, I had 
many uneasy sensations, and more than once sincerely wished my¬ 
self at home with my parents ; however, as I had set out on an 
important design, and as yet met with no misfortune, pride kept me 
from this act, while necessity urged me to fix speedily on some 
inode of obtaining a livelihood. 

My mind was severely agitated on this subject one morning, when 
a young officer came into my room, and soon entered into conversa¬ 
tion on the pleasures of a military life, the great chance there was 
for an active young man to obtain promotion, and the grand prospect 
opening for making great fortunes in the western country. His 
discourse had the desired effect; for. after treating me with a bowl 
16 * 


184 


johonnet’s narrative. 


or two of punch, I enlisted, with a firm promise on his side to assist 
me in obtaining a sergeant’s warrant before the party left Boston. 

An entire new scene now opened before me. Instead of becoming 
a sergeant, I was treated severely for my ignorance in a matter I had 
till then scarcely thought of, and insultingly ridiculed for remonstra- 
ing against the conduct of the officer. I suffered great uneasiness 
on these and other accounts, of a similar kind, for some time : 
at length, convinced of the futility of complaint, I applied my¬ 
self to study the exercise* and in a few days became tolerably 
expert. The beginning of July we left Boston, and proceeded on 
our way to join the western army. When we arrived at Fort 
Washington, I was ordered to join Capt. Pheloh’s company, and in 
a few days set out on the expedition under General Harmar. Those 
alone who have experienced, can tell what hardships men undergo in 
such excursions ; hunger, fatigue and toil were our constant atten¬ 
dants : however, as our expectations were raised with the idea of 
easy conquest, rich plunder, and fine arms in the end, we made a 
shift to be tolerably merry : for my own part, I had obtained a 
sergeancy, and flattered myself I was in the direct road to honour, 
fame and fortune. Alas ! how fluctuating are the scenes of life !— 
how singularly precarious the fortune of a soldier ! Before a single 
opportunity presented in which I could have a chance to signalize 
myself, it was my lot to be taken in an ambuscade, by a party of 
Kickappoo Indians, and with ten others constrained to experience 
scenes, in comparison with which our former distresses sunk into 
nothing. We were taken on the bank of the Wabash, and‘imme¬ 
diately conveyed to the upper Miami, at least such of us as survived. 
The second day after we were taken, one of my companions, by 
the name of George Aikins, a native of Ireland, became so faint 
with hunger and fatigue that he could proceed no further. A short 
council was immediately held among the Indians who guarded us, 
the result of which was that he should be put to death ; this was no 
sooner determined on than a scene of torture began. The captain 
of the guard approached the wretched victim, who lay bound upon 
the ground, and with his knife made a circular incision on the scull; 
two others immediately pulled off the scalp ; after this, each of 
them struck him on the head with their tomahawks; they then 
stripped him naked, stabbed him with their knives in every sensitive 
part of the body, and left him, weltering in blood, though not quite 
dead, a wretched victim of Indian rage and hellish barbarity. 

We were eight days on our march to the upper Miami, during 
which painful travel, no pen can describe our sufferings from hunger, 
thirst, and toil. We were met, at the entrance of the town, by 
above five hundred Indians, besides squaws and children, who were 
apprized by our approach by a most hideous yelling, made by our 
guard, and answered repeatedly from the village. Here we were all 
severely beaten by the Indians, and four of our number, viz. James 
Durgee, of Concord, Samuel Forsythe, of Beverly, Robert Deloy, 
of Marblehead, and Uzza Benton, of Salem, who all fainted undei 


johoxnet’s narrative. 


185 


their heavy trials, were immediately scalped and tomahawked in our 
presence, and tortured to death, with every affliction of misery that 
savage ingenuity could invent. 

It was the 4th of August when we were taken, and our unhappy 
companions were massacred the thirteenth. News was that day re¬ 
ceived of the destruction at L’Anguille, &c. of Gen. Harmar’s army, a 
number of scalps were exhibited by the warriors, and several prisoners, 
among whom were three women and six children, carried through 
the village, destined to a Kickappoo settlement, further westward. 
The 15th of August, four more of my fellow prisoners, viz. Lemuel 
Saunders, of Boston, Thomas Tharp, of Dorchester, Vincent Upham, 
of Mistick, and Younglove Croxal, of Abington, were taken irom 
us; but whether they were massacred or preserved alive, I am 
unable to say. After this, nothing material occurred for a fortnight, 
except that we were several times severely whipped on the receipt 
of bad news, and our allowance of provisions lessened, so that we 
were apprehensive of starving to death, if we did not fall an imme¬ 
diate sacrifice to the fire or tomahawk : but heaven had otherwise 
decreed. 

On the night following the 30th of August, our guard, which 
consisted of four Indians, tired out with watching, laid down to sleep, 
leaving only an old squaw to attend us. Providence so ordered that 
my companion had, by some means, got one of his hands at liberty, 
and having a knife in his pocket, soon cut the withes that bound his 
feet, and that which pinioned my arms, unperceived by the old 
squaw, who sat in a drowsy position, not suspecting harm, over a 
small fire in the wigwam. 

I ruminated but a few moments on our situation ; there was no 
weapon near us, except my companion’s knife, which he still held ; 
I looked on him to make him observe me, and the same instant 
sprung and grasped the squaw by the throai to prevent her making 
a noise, and my comrade in a moment cut her throat from ear to 
ear, down to the neck bone. He then seized a tomahawk and myself 
a rifle, and striking at the same instant, dispatched two of our 
enemies, the sound of these blows awakened the others, but before 
they had time to rise, we renewed our strokes on them, and luckily 
to so good efleet, as to stun them, and then repeating the blow, we 
sunk a tomahawk in each of their heads, armed ourselves completely, 
and taking what provisions the wigwam afforded, we committed 
ourselves to the protection of Providence, and made the best of our 
way into the wilderness. 

The compass of a volume would scarce contain the events of our 
progress through the wilderness; but as they were uninteresting to 
any°but ourselves, I shall only observe generally, that the difficulties 
of the journey were too great to have been endured by any who had 
less interest than life at stake, or a less terrible enemy than Indians 
to fear. Hunger, thirst, and fatigue, were our constant companions. 
We travelled hard, day and night, except the few hours absolutely 
requisite for repose, that nature might not sink under her oppression.. 


186 


johoxnet’s narrative. 


at which period one constantly watched while the other slept. In 
this tiresome mode, we proceeded until the fifteenth of September, 
having often to shift our direction on account of impassable bogs, 
deep morasses, and hideous precipices, without meeting any adven¬ 
ture worthy of note. On the morning of the fifteenth, as we were 
steering nearly a north course, in order to avoid a bog that interce])- 
ted our course, S. E., we found the bodies of an old man, a woman 
and two children newly murdered, stript and scalped. This horrid 
spectacle chilled our blood ; we viewed‘the wretched victims ; and 
from what we could collect from circumstances, we concluded that 
they had been dragged away from their homes, and their feet being 
worn out, had been inhumanly murdered, and left weltering in their 
blood. We were at a great loss now to determine what course to 
steer; at length we pitched upon a direction about north-west, and 
walked on as fast as possible to escape the savages, if practicable. 
About noon this day, we came to a good spring, which was a 
great relief to us ; but which we had great reason a few minutes 
after to believe would be the last of our earthly comforts. My 
companion, Richard Sackville, a corporal of Captain Newman’s 
company, stepped aside into the thicket, on some occason, and’ 
returned with the account that a few rods distant he had discovered 
four Indians with two miserable wretches bound, sitting under a 
tree, eating; and that if I would join him, he wrnuld either relieve 
the captives, or perish in the attempt. The resolution of my worthy 
comrade pleased me greatly; and as no time was to be lost, we set 
immediately about the execution of our design : Sackville took the 
lead, and conducted me undiscovered, within fifty yards of the 
Indians; two of them were laid down, with their muskets in their 
arms, and appeared to be asleep ; the other two sat at the head of 
the prisoners, their muskets resting against their left shoulders, and 
in their right hands each of them a tomahawk, over the heads of their 
prisoners. We each chose our man to fire at, and taking aim 
deliberately, had the satisfaction to see them both fall ; the others 
instantly started, and seeming at a loss to determine from whence 
the assault was made, fell on their bellies, and looked carefully 
around to discover the best course to take; mean time we had 
recharged, and shifting our position a little, impatiently waited their 
rising; in a minute they raised on their hands and knees, and having, 
as we supposed, discovered the smoke of our guns rising above the 
bushes, attempted to crawl into a thicket on the opposite side.— 
This gave us a good chance, and we again fired at different men, and 
with such effect, that we brought them both down ; one lay motion¬ 
less, the other crawled along a few yards ; we reloaded in an instant, 
and rushed towards him, yet keeping an eye on him, as he had 
reached his comrade’s gun, and sat upright in a posture of defence. 
By our noise in the bushes he discovered the direction to fire; alas ! 
too fatally, for by his fatal shot I lost my comrade and friend Sack¬ 
ville. At this moment the prisoners who were close pinioned, 
endeavoured to make their escape towards me, but the desperate 


johonnet’s narrative. 


187 


savage again fired, and shot one of them dead, the other gained the 
thicket within a few yards of me : I had now once more got ready 
to fire, and discharged at the wounded Indian ; at this discharge I 
wounded him in the neck, from whence I perceived the blood to 
flow swiftly, but he yet undauntedly kept his seat, and having now 
charged his guns, fired upon us with them both, and then fell, seem¬ 
ingly from faintness and loss of blood. I ran instantly to the 
pinioned white man and having unbound his arms, and armed him 
with the unfortunate Sackville’s musket, we cautiously approached 
a few yards nearer the wounded Indian; when I ordered my new 
comrade to fire, and we could perceive the shot took effect. The 
savage still lay motionless. As soon as my companion had re-loaded, 
we approached the Indian, whom we found not quite dead, and a 
tomahawk in each hand, which he flourished at us, seemingly 
determined not to be taken alive. I, for my own part, determined 
to take him alive, if possible ; but my comrade prevented me by 
shooting him through the body. I now enquired of my new com¬ 
panion what course we ought to steer, and whence the party came, 
from whose power I had relieved him.—He informed me with 
respect to the course, which we immediately took, and on the way 
let me know, that we were within about three days march of Fort 
Jefferson ; that he and three others were taken by a party of ten 
Wabash Indians, four days before, in the neighbourhood of that 
Fort; that two of his companions being wounded, were immediately 
scalped and killed; that the party at the time of taking him, had in 
their possession seven other prisoners, three of whom were com¬ 
mitted to the charge of a party of four Indians. What became of 
them we knew not; the others being worn down with fatigue, were 
massacred the day before, and which I found to be those whose 
bodies poor Sackville had discovered in the thicket; that the other 
two Indians were gone towards the settlements, having sworn to kill 
certain persons whose names he had forgotten, and that destruction 
seemed to be their whole drift. 

My comrade, whose name, on enquiry, I learned to be George 
Sexton, formerly a resident of Newport, Rhode Island, I found to 
be an excellent woodsman, and a man of great spirit, and so grateful 
for the deliverance I had been instrumental in obtaining for him, that 
he would not suffer me to watch for him to sleep, but one hour in 
the four and twenty, although he was so fatigued as to have absolute 
need of a much greater proportion ; neither would he permit me to 
carry any of our baggage. 

From the time of being joined by Sexton, we steered a south-east 
course, as direct as possible, until the 18th, towards night, directing 
our course by the sun and the moss on the trees by day, and the 
moon by night: on the evening of the 18th, we providentially fell 
in with an American scouting party, who conducted us safely, in a 
few hours, to Fort Jefferson, where we were treated with great 
humanity, and supplied with the best refreshments the Fort afforded, 
which to me was very acceptable, as I had not tasted any thing ex¬ 
cept wild berries and ground nuts for above a week. 


188 


johonnet’s narrative. 


The week after our arrivel at Fort Jefferson, I was able to return 
to my duty in my own regiment, which, the latter end of August, 
joined the army on an expedition against the Indians of the Miami 
Village, the place in which I had suffered so much, and so recently, 
and where I had beheld so many cruelties perpetrated on unfortunate 
Americans. It is easier to conceive than describe the perturbation 
of my mind on this occasion. The risk I should run in common 
with "my fellow soldiers, seemed heightened by the certainty of 
torture that awaited me in case of being captured by the savages. 
However, these reflections only occasioned a firm resolution of 
doing my duty, vigilantly, and selling my life in action as dear as 
possible, but by no means to be taken alive if I could evade it by 
any exertion short of suicide. 

My captain showed me every kindness in his power on the march, 
indulged me with a horse as often as possible, and promised to use 
his influence to obtain a commission for me, if I conducted well the 
present expedition ;—poor gentleman! little did he think he was 
soon to expire gallantly fighting the battles of his country ! I hasten 
now to the most interesting part of my short narrative, the descrip¬ 
tion of General St. Clair’s defeat, and the scenes which succeeded it. 

On the 3rd of November we arrived within a few miles of the 
Miami Village. Our army consisted of about twelve hundred regular 
troops, and nearly an equal number of militia. The night of the 
3rd, having reason to expect an attack, we were ordered under arms, 
about midnight, and kept in order until just before day-light, at which 
time our scouts having been set out in various directions, and no 
enemy discovered, we were dismissed from the parade to take some 
refreshment. The men in general, almost worn out with fatigue, 
had thrown themselves down to repose a little; but their rest was of 
short duration, for before sunrise, the Indians began a desperate 
attack upon the militia, which soon threw them into disorder, and 
forced them to retire precipitately, into the very heart of our camp. 

Good God! what were my feelings, when, starting from my 
slumbers, I heard the most tremendous firing all around, with yell- 
ings, horrid whoopings, and expiring groans, in dreadful discord, 
sounding in my ears. I seized my arms, ran out of my tent with 
several of my comrades, and saw the Indians, with their bloody 
tomahawks and murderous knives butchering the flying militia. I 
fled towards them, filled with desperation, discharged my firelock 
among them, and had the satisfaction to see one of the tawny sava¬ 
ges fall, whose tomahawk was that instant elevated to strike a gallant 
officer, then engaged, sword in hand, with a savage in front. My 
example, I have reason to think, animated my companions. Our 
own company now reached the place we occupied, and aided by the 
regulars of other companies and regiments, who joined us indiscrim¬ 
inately, we drove the Indians back into the bush, and soon after 
formed in tolerable order, under as gallant commanders as ever died 
in defence of America. The firing ceased for a few minutes, but it 
was like the interval of a tornado, calculated, by an instantaneous, 


johonnet’s narrative. 


189 


dreadful reverse, to strike the deeper horror.—In one and the same 
minute, seemingly, the most deadly and heavy firing took place in 
every part of our camp; the army, exposed to the shot of the enemy, 
delivered from the ground, fell on every side, and drenched the plains 
with blood, while the discharge from our troops, directed almost at 
random, I am fearful did but little execution. Orders were now 
given to charge with bayonets. We obeyed with alacrity ; a dread¬ 
ful swarm of tawny savages rose from the ground, and fled before 
us; but alas ! our officers, rendered conspicuous by their exertions 
to stimulate the men, became victims of savage ingenuity, and fell so 
fast, in common with the rest, that scarce a shot appeared as spent 
in vain.—Advantages gained by the bayonet, were by this means, 
and want of due support, lost again, and our little corps, obliged in 
turn, repeatedly to give way before the Indians. We were now 
reduced to less than half our original number of regular troops, and 
less than a fourth part of our officers, our horses all killed or taken, 
our artillery men all cut off, and the pieces in the enemy’s hands ; 
in this dreadful dilemma we had nothing to do but to attempt a 
retreat, which soon became a flight, and for several miles, amidst 
the yells of Indians, more dreadful to my ears, than the screams of 
damned fiends to my ideas, amidst the groans of dying men, and the 
dreadful sight of bloody massacres on every side, perpetrated by the 
Indians on the unfortunate creatures they overtook. I endured a 
degree of torture no tongue can describe or heart conceive; yet I 
providentially escaped unhurt, and frequently discharged my musket T 
I am persuaded, with effect. 

Providence was pleased to sustain my spirits, and preserve my 
strength; and although I had been so far spent previous to setting 
out on the expedition, as to be unable to go upon fatigue for several 
days, or even to bear a moderate degree of exercise, I reached Fort 
Jefferson the day after the action, about ten in the morning, having 
travelled on foot all night to effect it. 

Thus have I made the reader acquainted with the most interesting 
scenes of ray life; many of them are extraordinary, some of them 
perhaps incredible ; but all of them founded in fact, which can ha 
attested by numbers. 



THE 


CAPTURE OF JORDAN’S FAMILY. 

Related in a Letter from a gentleman in Augustine to his 
friend in Virginia. 


Dear Sir :—On the night of the 3d February last, there arrived 
in this place, in a deplorable condition, Mrs. Mary Jordan, who, 
with her husband and six children, were, in January last, carried 
away captives by the Indians. Mrs. Jordan has furnished me with 
the following melancholy account of the massacre of her husband and 
children, and of her own sufferings while with the savages. 

“ On the night of 22d Jan. 1807, we were suddenly awakened 
from slumber by the hideous yells of savages, who before we could 
put ourselves in a situation to oppose them, succeeded in forcing the 
doors of the house. They were, to the number of forty or fifty, 
frightfully painted, and armed with tomahawks and scalping knives. 
My husband met them at the door, and in their own tongue asked 
them what they wanetd—‘ The scalps of your family!’ was their 
answer. My husband entreated them to have compassion on me 
and his innocent children, but his entreaties availed nothing ; we 
were dragged naked out of the house, and tied severally with cords. 
By order of one, who appeared to be the chief, about twenty of the 
Indians took charge of us, who were ordered to conduct us with all 
possible dispatch to their settlement (about 200 miles distant) while 
the remainder were left to pillage and fire the house. We commenced 
our journey about midnight, through an uncultivated wilderness, 
at the rate of nearly seven miles an hour. If either of us, through 
fatigue, slackened our pace, we were most inhumanly beaten and 
threatened with instant death. 

“After a tedious trave lof more than 40 miles, the savagesjjhalted in 
a swamp ;—here for the first time, from the time of our departure, 
we were permitted to lie down—the Indians kindled a fire, on which 
they broiled some bear’s flesh, of which they allowed us but a small 
portion. 

“After they had refreshed themselves and extinguished the fire, we 
were again compelled to pursue our journey.—We travelled until 
sunset, when the Indians again halted and began to prepare a cover¬ 
ing for themselves for the night. My poor children complained 


192 


Jordan’s narrative. 


much of their feet being swollen, but I was not permitted to give 
them any relief, nor was their father allowed to discourse with them. 
As night approached, we shook each other by the hand, expecting 
never again to witness the rising of the sun. Contrary to our 
expectations, however, we had a tolerable night’s rest, and on the 
succeeding day, though naked and half starved, travelled with much 
more ease than on the preceding one. The Indians occasionally 
allowed us a little raw food, sufficient only to keep us alive ;—we 
this day travelled, according to the reckoning of the Indians, nearly 
forty miles, and were, about sunset, joined by the remaining savages 
who were left behind ; they were loaded with the spoils of my 
husband’s property ; among other articles they had a keg of spirits 
of which they had drank plentifully, and as they became intoxicated, 
they exercised the more cruelty towards us—they beat my poor 
children so unmercifully that they were unable to stand on their feet 
the ensuing morning—the Indians attributed their inability to wilful¬ 
ness, and again renewed their acts of barbarity, beating them with 
clubs, cutting and gashing them with their knives and scorching 
their naked bodies with brands of fire. Finding that their hellish 
plans had no other effect than to render the poor, unhappy sufferers 
less able to travel, they came to the resolution to butcher them on 
the spot. 

“Six holes were dug in the earth, of about five feet in depth, 
around each of which some dried branches of trees were placed. 
My husband at this moment, filled with horror at what he expected 
was about to take place, broke the rope with which he was bound, 
and attempted to escape from the hands of the unmerciful cannibals— 
he was, however, closely pursued, soon overtaken and brought back 
—as he past me, he cast his eyes towards me and fainted—in this 
situation he was placed erect in one of the holes. The woods now 
resounded with the heart-piercing cries of my poor children—‘ spare, 
O spare my father,’ was their cry— 4 have mercy on my poor children P 
was the cry of their father ; but all availed nothing—my dear children 
were all placed in a situation similar to that of their father—the 
youngest (only nine years old) broke from them, and ran up to me, 
crying, 4 don't , mamma , mamma , don't let them kill me !' 

Alas, 0 Heavens, what could I do ? In vain did I beg of them to 
let me take my dear child’s place !—by force it was torn from me. 

“ Having placed the poor unfortunate victims in the manner above 
described, they secured them in a standing position by replacing the 
earth, which buried them nearly to their necks ! The inhuman 
wretches now began their hideous pow-wows, dancing to and fro 
around the victims of their torture, which they continued about half 
an hour, when they communicated fire to the fatal piles ! Heaven 
only knows what my feelings were at this moment! As the flames 
increased, the shrieks and dying groans of my poor family were 
heightened !—thank heaven ! their sufferings were of short dura¬ 
tion ;—in less than a quarter of an hour from the time the fire was 
first communicated, their cries ceased, and they sunk into the arms 
of their kind deliverer. 


Jordan’s narrative. 


193 


“ The callous-hearted wretches having sufficiently teasted their 
eyes with the agonies of the unfortunate sufferers, retired to regale 
themselves with what liquors remained; they drank freely, and 
soon became stupid and senseless.—With one of their tomahawks I 
might with ease have dispatched them all, but my only desire was 
to flee from them as quick as possible.—I succeeded with difficulty 
in liberating myself by cutting the cord with which I was bound, on 
which I bent my course for this place. A piece of bear’s flesh, 
which I fortunately found in one of the Indian’s packs, served me 
for food. I travelled only by night, in the day time concealing 
myself in the thick swamps or hollow trees. A party of Indians 
passed within a few rods of the place of my concealment the second 
day after my departure, but did not discover me; they were un¬ 
doubtedly of the same party from whom I had escaped, in pursuit 
of me. Two days alter, I was met by an Indian of the Shavvanese 
nation; he proved friendly, and conducted me to a white settlement; 
without his assistance I must have again fallen into the hands of my 
savage foes.” 

















EXTRACT FROM 


Col. Humphrey’s Life of Gen. Putnam. 

(The events noticed occurred in August, 1758.) 


In the month of August, five hundred men were employed, under 
the orders of Majors Rogers and Putnam, to watch the motions of 
the enemy near Ticonderoga. At South-Bay they separated the 
party into two equal divisions, and Rogers took a position on Wood 
Creek, twelve miles distant from Putnam. 

Upon being, sometime afterwards, discovered, they formed a re¬ 
union, and concerted measures for returning to Fort Edward. Their 
march through the woods, was in three divisions by files, the right 
commanded by Rogers, the left by Putnam, and the centre by Capt. 
D’Ell. The first night they encamped on the banks of Clear River , 
about a mile from old Fort Ann, which had been formerly built by 
Gen. Nicholson. Next morning Major Rogers, and a British officer 
named Irwin, incautiously suffered themselves, from a spirit of false 
emulation, to be engaged in firing at a mark. Nothing could have 
been more repugnant to the military principles of Putnam than such 
conduct; or reprobated by him in more pointed terms. As soon as 
the heavy dew which had fallen the preceding night would permit, 
the detachment moved in one body, Putnam being in front, D’Ell in 
the centre, and Rogers in the rear. The thick growth of shrubs 
and under-brush that had sprung up, where the land had been par¬ 
tially cleared some years before, occasioned this change in the order 
of march. At the moment of moving, the famous French partizan, 
Molang, who had been sent with five hundred men to intercept our 
party, was not more than one mile and a half distant from them. 
Having heard the firing, he hasted to lay an ambuscade precisely in 
that part of the wood most favorable to his project. Major Putnam 
was just emerging from the thicket, into the common forest, when 
the enemy rose, and with yells and whoops, commenced an attack 
upon the right of his division. Surprised, but undismayed, Putnam 
halted, returned the fire, and passed the word for the other division 
to advance for his support. D’Ell came. The action, though 
widely scattered, and principally fought between man and man, soon 
grew "general and intensely warm. It would be as difficult as use¬ 
less to describe this irregular and ferocious mode of fighting. Rogers 
came not up: but, as he declared afterwards, formed a circular file 
between our party and Wood Creek, to prevent their being taken in 
rear or enfiladed. Successful as he commonly was, his conduct did 
not always pass without unfavorable imputation. Notwithstanding, 
17 * 



196 


PUTNAM. 


it was a current saying in the camp, “ that Rogers always sent , but 
Putnam always led his men to action,” yet, in justice, it ought to 
be remarked here, that the latter has never been known, in relating 
the story of this day’s disaster, to affix any stigma upon the conduct 
of the former. 

Major Putnam, perceiving it would be impracticable to cross the 
creek, determined to maintain his ground. Inspired by his example, 
the officers and men behaved with great bravery : sometimes they 
fought aggregately in open view, and sometimes individually under 
cover; taking aim from behind the bodies of trees, and acting in a 
manner independent of each other. For himself, having discharged 
his fuzee several times, at length it missed fire, while the muzzle 
was pressed against the breast of a large and well proportioned 
savage. This warrior , availing himself of the indefensible attitude 
of his adversary, with a tremendous war-whoop sprang forward, 
with his lifted hatchet, and compelled him to surrender; and having 
disarmed and bound him fast to a tree, returned to the battle. 

The intrepid Captains D’Ell and Harman, who now commanded, 
were forced to give ground for a little distance: the savages, con¬ 
ceiving this to be the certain harbinger of victory, rushed impetu¬ 
ously on, with dreadful and redoubled cries. But our two partizans, 
collecting a handful of brave men, gave the pursuers so warm a re¬ 
ception, as to oblige them, in turn, to retreat a little beyond the spot 
at which the action had commenced. Here they made a stand.— 
This change of ground occasioned the tree to which Putnam was 
tied to be directly between the fire of the two parties. Human ima¬ 
gination can scarcely figure to itself a more deplorable situation.— 
The balls flew incessantly from either side ; many struck the tree, 
while some passed through the sleeves and skirts of his coat. In 
this state of jeopardy, unable to move his body, to stir his limbs, or 
even incline his head, he remained more than an hour—so equally 
balanced and obstinate was the fight! At one moment, while the 
battle swerved in favor of the enemy, a young savage chose an odd 
way of discovering his humor. He found Putnam bound. He 
might have dispatched him at a blow.—But he loved better to excite 
the terrors of the prisoner, by hurling a tomahawk at his head, or 
rather it should seem his object was to see how near he could throw 
it without touching him;—the weapon struck in the tree a number 
of times at a hair’s breadth distance from the mark. When the 
Indian had finished his amusement, a French Bas-Officer, (a much 
more inveterate savage by nature, though descended from so humane 
and polished a nation,) perceiving Putnam, came up to him, and 
levelling a fuzee within a foot of his breast, attempted to discharge 
it, but it missed fire ;—ineffectually did the intended victim solicit 
the treatment due to his situation, by repeating that he was a priso¬ 
ner of war. The degenerate Frenchman did not understand the 
language of honor or of nature: deaf to their voice, and dead to sen¬ 
sibility, he violently and repeatedly pushed the muzzle of his gun 
against Putnam’s ribs, and finally gave him a cruel blow on the jaw 
with the butt of his piece.—After this dastardly deed, he left him. 


PUTNAM. 


197 


At length the active intrepidity of D’Ell and Harman, seconded 
by the persevering valor of their followers, prevailed.—They drove 
from the field the enemy, who left about ninety dead behind them. 
As they were retiring, Putnam was untied by the Indian who had 
made him prisoner, and whom he afterwards called master. Having 
been conducted lor some distance from the place of action, he was 
stripped of his coat, vest, stockings and shoes ; loaded with as many 
of the packs of the wounded as could be piled upon him; strongly 
pinioned, and his wrists tied as closely together as they could be 
pulled with a cord. After he had marched, through no pleasant 
paths, in this painful manner, for many a tedious mile, the party 
(who were excessively fatigued) halted to breathe. His hands were 
now immoderately swollen from the tightness of the ligature : and 
the pain had become intolerable. His feet were so much scratched 
that the blood dropped fast from them. Exhausted with bearing a 
burden above his strength, and frantic with torments exquisite be¬ 
yond endurance, he entreated the Irish interpreter to implore as 
the last and only grace he desired of the savages, that they would 
knock him on the head and take his scalp at once, or loose his 
hands. A French officer, instantly interposing, ordered his hands 
to be unbound, and some of the packs to be taken off. By this time 
the Indian who captured him and had been absent with the wounded, 
coming up, gave him a pair of inocasons, and expressed great indig¬ 
nation at the unworthy treatment his prisoner had suffered. 

That savage chief again returned to the care of the wounded, and 
the Indians, about two hundred in number, went before the rest of 
the party to the place where the whole were that night to encamp. 
They took with them Major Putnam, on whom (besides innumera¬ 
ble other outrages) they had the barbarity to inflict a deep wound 
with a tomahawk, in the left cheek. His sufferings were in this 
place to be consummated. A scene of horror, infinitely greater than 
had ever met his eyes before, was now preparing. It was deter¬ 
mined to roast him alive. For this purpose they led him into a dark 
forest, stripped him naked, bound him to a tree, and piled dry brush 
with other fuel, at a small distance in a circle round him. They 
accompanied their labors, as if for his funeral dirge, with screams 
and sounds inimitable but by savage voices. Then they set the 
piles on fire. A sudden shower damped the rising flame. Still 
they strove to kindle it, until, at last, the blaze ran fiercely round 
the circle. Major Putnam soon began to feel the scorching heat. 
His hands were so tied that he could move his body. He often 
shifted sides as the fire approached. This sight, at the very idea of 
which all but savages must shudder, afforded the highest diversion 
to his inhuman tormenters, who demonstrated the delirium of their 
joy by corresponding yells, dances and gesticulations. He saw 
clearly that his final hour was inevitably come. He summoned all 
his resolution and composed his mind, as far as the circumstances 
would admit, to bid an eternal farewell to all he held most dear. To 
quit the world would scarcely have cost a single pang, but for the 
idea of home, the remembrance of domestic endearments, of the 


198 


PUTNAM. 


affectionate partner of his bosom, and of their beloved offspring. 
His mind was ultimately fixed on a happier state of existence, be¬ 
yond the tortures he was beginning to endure. The bitterness of 
death, even of that death which is accompanied with the keenest 
agonies, was, in a manner, past—nature, with a feeble struggle, was 
quitting its last hold on sublunary things—when a French officer 
rushed through the crowd, opened a way by scattering the burning 
brands, and unbound the victim. It was Molang himself—to whom 
a savage, unwilling to see another human sacrifice immolated, had 
run and communicated the tidings. That commandant spurned and 
severely reprimanded the barbarians, whose nocturnal pow-wows and 
hellish orgies he suddenly ended. Putnam did not want for feeling 
and gratitude. The French Commander, fearing to trust him alone 
with them, remained until he could deliver him in safety into the 
hands of his master. 

The savage approached his prisoner kindly, and seemed to treat 
him with particular affection. He offered him some hard biscuit, 
but finding that he could not chew them, on account of the blow he 
had received from the Frenchman, this more humane savage soaked 
some of the biscuit in water and made him suck the pulp-like part. 
Determined, however, not to loose his captive (the refreshment being 
finished) he took the mocasons from his feet and tied them to one of 
his wrists : then directing him to lie down on his back upon the 
bare ground, he stretched one arm to its full length, and bound it 
fast to a young tree; the other arm was extended and bound in the 
same manner—his legs were stretched apart and fastened to two 
saplings. Then a number of tall, but slender poles were cut down ; 
which, with some long bushes, were laid across his body from head 
to foot: on each side lay as many Indians as could conveniently 
find lodging, in order to prevent the possibility of his escape. In 
this disagreeable and painful posture he remained until morning. 
During this night, the longest and most dreary conceivable, our hero 
used to relate that he felt a ray of cheerfulness come casually across 
his mind, and could not even refrain from smiling, when he reflec¬ 
ted on this ludicrous groupe for a painter, of which he himself was 
the principal figure. 

The next day he was allowed his blanket and mocasons, and 
permitted to march without carrying any pack, or receiving any 
insult. To allay his extreme hunger, a little bear’s meat was given, 
which he sucked through his teeth. At night, the party arrived at 
Ticonderoga, and the prisoner was placed under the care of a French 
guard. The savages, who had been prevented glutting their diabol¬ 
ical thirst for blood, took other opportunity of manifesting their 
malevolence for the disappointment, by horrid grimaces and angry 
gestures: but they were suffered no more to offer violence or 
personal indignity to him. 

After having been examined by the Marques d’Montcalm, Major 
Putnam was conducted to Montreal, by a French officer, who treated 
him with the greatest indulgence and humanity. 


AN ACCOUNT OF THE 


DREADFUL DEVASTATION OF 

WYOMING SETTLEMENTS, 

In July, 1778. 

(FROM GORDON’S HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN WAR.) 

So early as the 8th of February, 1778, General Schuyler wrote 
to Congress—“ There is too much reason to believe, that an expedition 
will be formed (by the Indians) against the western frontiers of this 
state, (New York,) Virginia and Pennsylvania.” The next month 
he informed them that “ A number of Mohawks, and many of the 
Onondagoes, Cayugas, and Seneccas, will commence hostilities 
against us as soon as they can ; it would be prudent, therefore, 
early to take measures to carry the war into their country ; it would 
require no greater body of troops to destroy their towns than to 
protect the frontier inhabitants.” No effectual measures being taken 
to repress the hostile spirit of the Indians, numbers joined the tory 
refugees, and with these commenced their horrid depredations and 
hostilities upon the back settlers, being headed by Colonel Butler, 
and Brandt, a half blooded Indian, of desperate courage, lurious 
and cruel beyond example. Their expeditions were carried on to 
great advantage, by the exact knowledge which the refugees possessed 
of every object of their enterprise, and the immediate intelligence 
they received from their friends on the spot. The weight of their 
hostilities fell upon the fine, new and flourishing settlement of 
Wyoming, situated on the eastern branch of the Susquehanna, in a 
most beautiful country and delightful climate. It was settled and 
cultivated with great ardor by a number of people from Connecticut, 
which claimed the territory as included in its original grant from 
Charles II. The settlement consisted of eight townships, each five 
miles square, beautifully placed on each side of the river. It had 
increased so rapidly in population, that the settlers sent a thousand 
men to serve in the continental army. To provide against the 
dangers of their remote situation, four forts were constructed to 
cover them from the irruptions of the Indians. But it was their 
unhappiness to have a considerable mixture of royalists among them ; 
and the two parties were actuated by sentiments of the most violent 
animosity, which was not confined to particular families or places; 


200 


WYOMING. 


but creeping within the roofs and to the hearths and floors where it 
was least to be expected, served equally to poison the sources of 
domestic security and happiness, and to cancel the laws of nature and 
humanity. 

They had frequent and timely warnings of the danger to which 
they were exposed by sending their best men to so great a distance. 
Their quiet had been interrupted by the Indians, joined by maraud¬ 
ing parties of their own countrymen, in the preceding year ; and it 
was only by a vigorous opposition, in a course of successful 
skirmishes, that they had been driven off. Several tories, and 
others not before suspected, had then and since abandoned the 
settlement; and beside a perfect knowledge of all their particular 
circumstances, carried along with them such a stock of private 
resentment, as could not fail of directing the fury, and even giving 
an edge to the cruelty of their Indian and other inveterate enemies. 
An unusual number of strangers had come among them under various 
pretences, whose behaviour became so suspicious, that upon being 
taken up and examined, such evidence appeared against several of 
them, of their acting in concert with the enemy, on a scheme for 
the destruction of the settlements, that about twenty were sent off 
to Connecticut to be there imprisoned and tried for their lives, while 
the remainder were expelled. These measures excited the rage of 
the tories in general to the most extreme degree ; and the threats 
formerly denounced against the settlers, were now renewed with 
aggravated vengeance. 

As the time approached for the final catastrophe, the Indians 
practiced unusual treachery. For several weeks previous to the 
intended attack, they repeatedly sent small parties to the settlement, 
charged with the strongest professions of friendship. These parties, 
beside attempting to lull the people in security, answered the purposes 
of communicating with their friends, and of observing the present 
state of affairs. The settlers, however, were not insensible to the 
danger. They had taken the alarm, and Colonel Zebulon Butler 
had several times written letters to Congress and Gen. Washington, 
acquainting them with the danger the settlement was in, and reques¬ 
ting assistance ; but the letters were never received, having been 
intercepted by the Pennsylvania tories. A little before the main 
attack, some small parties made sudden irruptions, committed several 
robberies and murders, and from ignorance or a contempt of all ties 
whatever, massacred the wife and five children of one of the persons 
sent for trial to Connecticut, in their own cause. 

At length, in the beginning of July, the enemy suddenly appeared 
in full force on the Susquehanna, headed by Colonel John Butler, a 
Connecticut tory, and cousin to Colonel Zebulon Butler, the second 
in command in the settlement. He was assisted by most of those 
leaders, who had rendered themselves terrible in the present frontier 
war. Their force was about 1600 men, near a fourth Indians, led 
by their own chiefs; the others were so disguised and painted, as 
not to be distinguished from the Indians, excepting their officers, 


WYOMING. 


201 


who, being dressed in regimentals, carried the appearance of regulars. 
One of the smaller forts, garrisoned chiefly by tories, was given up, 
or rather betrayed. Another was taken by storm, and all but the 
women and children massacred in the most inhuman manner. 

Colonel Zebulon Butler, leaving a small number to guard Fort 
Wilkesborough, crossed the river with about 400 men, and marched 
into Kingston Fort, whither the women, children and defenceless of 
all sorts crowded for protection. lie suffered himself to be enticed 
by his cousin to abandon the fortress. He agreed to march out, and 
hold a conference with the enemy in the open field (at so great a 
distance from the Fort, as to shut out all possibility of protection 
from it) upon their withdrawing according to their own proposal, in 
order to the holding of a parley for the conclusion of a treaty. He 
at the same time marched out about 400 men well armed, being 
nearly the whole strength of the garrison, to guard his person to the 
place of parley, such was his distrust of the enemy's designs. On 
his arrival he found no body to treat with, and yet advanced toward 
the foot of the mountain, where, at a distance, he saw a flag, the 
holders of which, seemingly afraid of treachery on his side, retired 
as he advanced ; whilst he, endeavouring to remove this pretended 
ill-impression, pursued the flag, till his party was thoroughly 
enclosed, when lie was suddenly freed from his delusion, by finding 
it attacked at once on every side. He and his men, notwithstanding 
the surprise and danger, fought with resolution and bravery, and 
kept up so continual and heavy a fire for three quarters of an hour, 
that they semed to gain a marked superiority. In this critical 
moment, a soldier, through a sudden impulse of fear, or premeditated 
treachery, cried out aloud—“ the Colonel has ordered a retreat.” 
The fate of the party was now at once determined. In the state of 
confusion that ensued, an unresisted slaughter commenced, while the 
enemy broke in on all 6ides without obstruction. Colonel Zebulon 
Butler, and about seventy of his men escaped ; the latter got across 
the river to Fort Wilkesborogh, the Colonel made his way to Fort 
Kingston, which was invested the next day on the land side. The 
enemy, to sadden the drooping spirits of the weak remaining garrison, 
sent in, for their contemplation, the bloody scalps of a hundred and 
ninty-six of their late friends and comrades. They kept up a con¬ 
tinual fire upon the Fort the whole day. In the evening the Colonel 
quitted the Fort and went down the river with his family. He is 
thought to be the only officer that escaped. 

Colonel Nathan Dennison, who succeeded to the command, seeing 
the impossibility of an effectual defence, went with a flag to Colonel 
John Butler, to know what terms he would grant on a surrender; to 
which application Butler answered, with more than savage phlegm, 
in two shot words —the hatchet. Dennison having defended the 
Fort, till most of the garrison were killed or disabled, was compelled 
to surrender at discretion. Some of the unhappy persons in the 
Fort were carried away alive ; but the barbarous conquerors, to save 
the trouble of murder in detail, shut up the rest promiscuously in the 


202 


WYOMING. 


houses and barracks; which having set on fire they enjoyed the 
savage pleasure of beholding the whole consumed in one general 
blaze. 

They then crossed the river to the only remaining Fort, Wilkes- 
borough, which, in hopes of mercy, surrendered without demanding 
any conditions. They found about seventy continental soldiers, 
who had been engaged merely for the defence of the frontiers, whom 
they butchered with every circumstance of horrid cruelty. The 
remainder of the men, with the women and children, were.shut up 
as before in the houses, which being set on fire, they perished 
altogether in the flames. 

A general scene of devastation was now spread through all the 
townships. Fire, sword, and the other different instruments of 
destruction, alternately triumphed. The settlements of the tories 
alone generally escaped, and appeared as islands in the midst of the 
surrounding ruin. The merciless ravagers having destroyed the 
main objects of their cruelty, directed their animosity to every part 
of living nature belonging to them ; shot and destroyed some of their 
cattle, and cut out the tongues of others, leaving them still alive to 
prolong their agonies. 

The following are a few of the more singular circumstances of the 
barbarity practised in the attack upon Wyoming. Captain Bedlock, 
who had been taken prisoner, being stripped naked, had his body 
stuck full of splinters of pine knots, and then a heap of pine knots 
piled around him ; the whole was then set on fire, and his two com¬ 
panions, Captains Ranson and Durgee, thrown, alive, into the flames 
and held down with pitch-forks. The returned tories, who had at 
different times abandoned the settlements in order to join in those 
savage expeditions, were the most distinguished for their cruelty : 
in this they resembled the tories that joined the British forces. 
One of these Wyoming tories, whose mother had married a second 
husband, butchered, with his own hands, both her, his father-in-law, 
his own sisters, and their infant children. Another, who during his 
absence had sent home several threats against the life of his father, 
now not only realized them in person, but was himself, with his own 
hands, the exterminator of his whole family, mother, brothers and sis¬ 
ters, and mingled their blood in one common carnage, with that 
of the aged husband and father. The broken parts and scattered 
relics of families, consisting mostly of women and children, who 
had escaped to the woods during the different scenes of this devasta¬ 
tion, suffered little less than their friends, who had perished in the 
ruin of their houses. Dispersed and wandering in the forests, as 
chance and fear directed, without provision or covering, they had a 
long tract of country to traverse, and many, without doubt, perished 
in the woods. 


A 


FAITHFUL NARRATIVE 

OF THE MANY DANGERS AND SUFFERINGS AS WELL AS 
WONDERFUL DELIVERANCES OF 

ROBERT EASTBURA, 

DURING HIS CAPTIVITY AMONG THE INDIANS. 


WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 


About thirty tradesmen, and myself, arrived at Capt. Williams’s 
Fort, (at the Carrying-Place,) on our way to Oswego, the 26th 
of March, 1756.—The Captain informed me, that he was likely to 
be crowded in the Fort, and therefore advised us to take the Indian- 
House for our lodging. About ten o’clock next day, a negro man 
came running down the road, and reported that our slay-men were 
all taken by the enemy. Capt. Williams, on hearing this, sent a 
sergeant and about twelve men, to see if it was true: I being at the 
Indian-IIouse, and not thinking myself safe there, in case of an 
attack, and being also sincerely willing to serve my king and coun¬ 
try, in the best manner I could in my present circumstances, asked 
him if he would take company ?—He replied, with all his heart 1 
Hereupon, I fell into the rear, with my arms, and marched after 
them ; when we had advanced about a quarter of a mile, we heard a 
shot, followed with doleful cries of a dying man, which excited me 
to advance, in order to discover the enemy, who I soon perceived 
were prepared to receive us : In this difficult situation, seeing a large 
pine tree near, I repaired to it for shelter; and while the enemy 
were viewing our party, I having a good chance of killing two at a 
shot, quickly discharged at them, but could not certainly know what 
execution was done till some time after; our company likewise dis¬ 
charged, and retreated. Seeing myself in danger of being surrounded, 
I was obliged to retreat a different course, and to my great surprise, 
fell into a deep mire, which the enemy, by following my track in a 
light snow, soon discovered, and obliged me to surrender, which I 
did to prevent a cruel death. They stood ready to drive their darts 
into my body, in case I refused to deliver up my arms. Presently 
after I was taken, I was surrounded by a great number, who stripped 
18 



204 


eastburn’s narrative. 


me of my clothing, hat, and neck-cloth, so that I had nothing left 
but a flannel vest, without sleeves, put a rope on my neck, bound 
my arms fast behind me, put a long band round my body, and a 
large pack on my back, struck me on the head a severe blow, and 
drove me through the woods before them. 

Seventeen or eighteen prisoners, were soon added to our number, 
one of whom informed me, that the Indians were angry with me, 
and reported to some of their chiefs, that I had fired on them, woun¬ 
ded one, and killed another; for which he suspected they would 
kill me.—I had not as yet learned what numbers the enemy’s parties 
consisted of, there being only about one hundred Indians who had lain 
in ambush on the road, to kill or take into captivity all that passed 
between the two forts. Here an interpreter came to me, to enquire 
what strength Capt. Williams had to defend his fort?—After a short 
pause, I gave such discouraging answer, yet consistent with truth, 
as prevented their attacking it, and of consequence the effusion of 
much blood. 

In the mean time the enemy determined to destroy Bull’s Fort, 
at the head of Wood creek, which they soon effected, all being put 
to the sword except five persons, the fort burnt, the provision and 
powder destroyed, saving only a little for their own use ; then they 
retired to the woods and joined their main body, which, inclusive, 
consisted of 400 French, and 300 Indians, commanded by one 
of the principal gentlemen of Quebec; as soon as they got to¬ 
gether (having a priest with them) they fell on their knees, and 
returned thanks for their victory. 

The enemy had several wounded men, both French and Indians, 
among them, whom they carried on their backs; besides which, 
about fifteen of their number were killed, and of us about forty; it 
being by this time near dark, and some Indians drunk, they only 
marched about four miles and encamped; the Indians untied my 
arms, cut hemlock boughs, and strewed round the fire, tied my band 
to two trees, with my back on the green boughs by the fire, covered 
me with an old blanket, and lay down across my band, on each side, 
to prevent my escape while they slept. 

Sunday, the 28th, they rose early, the commander ordered a hasty 
retreat towards Canada, for fear of Gen. Johnson ; in the mean time, 
one of our men said, he understood the French and Indians designed 
to join a strong party and fall on Oswego before our forces there 
could get any provision or succour; having, as they thought, put a 
stop to our relieving them for a time. When we encamped in the 
evening, the commanding officer ordered the Indians to bring me to 
his tent, and asked me, by an interpreter, if I thought Gen. Johnson 
would follow them; I told him I judged not, but rather thought he 
would proceed to Oswego ; which was indeed my sentiment, groun¬ 
ded upon prior information, and then expressed to prevent the exe¬ 
cution of their design. He farther enquired, what was my trade ?— 
I told him that of a smith ; he then persuaded me, when I got to 
Canada, to send for my wife, “ for, said he, you can get a rich living 


eastburn’s narrative. 


205 


there;” but when he saw that he could not prevail, he asked no 
more questions, but commanded me to return to my Indian master: 
having this opportunity of conversation, I informed the General, 
that his Indian warriors had stripped me of my clothing, and would 
be glad he would be good enough to order me some relief; to which 
he replied that I would get clothes when I came to Canada, which 
was cold comfort to one almost frozen. On my return, the Indians 
perceiving I was unwell, and could noteat their coarse food, ordered 
some chocolate, which they had brought from the Carrying-Place, 
to be boiled for me, and seeing me eat they appeared to be pleased. 
A strong guard was kept every night; one of our men being weak¬ 
ened by his wounds, and rendered unable to keep pace with them, 
was killed and scalped on the road!—I was all this time almost 
naked, travelling through deep snow, and wading through rivers 
cold as ice. 

After seven days march, we arrived at Lake Ontario, where I ate 
some horse flesh, which tasted very agreeable, for to the hungry 
man, as Solomon observes, every bitter thing is sweet. The French 
carried several of their wounded men all the way upon their backs, 
and many of them wore no breeches in their travels in this cold sea¬ 
son, being very strong, hardy men. The Indians had three of their 
party wounded, whom they likewise carried on their backs. The pris¬ 
oners were so divided, that but few could converse together on our 
march, and what was still more disagreeable and distressing, an 
Indian, who had a large bunch of green scalps, taken off our men’s 
heads, marched before me, and another with a sharp spear behind, 
to drive me after him ; by which means the scalps were often close 
to my face, and as we marched, they frequently, every day, gave 
the dead shout, which was repeated as many times as there were 
eaptives and scalps taken. 

April 4th, several French battoes met us, and brought a large 
supply of provision, the sight of which caused much joy, for we 
were in great want; then a place was soon erected to celebrate mass 
in, which being ended, we all went over the mouth of a river, where 
it empties itself into the east end of Lake Ontario; a great part of 
our company set off on foot towards Oswegotchy; while the rest 
were ordered into battoes, and carried towards the entrance of St. 
Lawrence, where that river takes its beginning; but by reason of 
bad weather, wind, rain and snow, whereby the waters of the lake 
were troubled, we were obliged to lie by, and haul our battoes on 
shore; here I lay on the cold shore two days. Tuesday, set off, 
and entered the head of St. Lawrence in the afternoon ; stopped late 
at night, made fires, but did not lie down to sleep ; embarked long 
before day, and after some miles progress down the river, we saw 
many fires on our right hand, which were made by the men who 
left us, and went by land—with them we staid till day, and then 
again embarked in our battoes—the weather was very bad; it snowed 
fast all day ; near night we arrived at Oswegotchy; I was almost 
starved to death, but hoped to stay in this Iudian town till warm 


206 


eastburn’s narrative. 


weather ; slept in an Indian wigwam ; rose early in the morning, 
being Thursday,/ and soon, to my grief, discovered my disappoint- 
ment. Several of the prisoners iiad leave to tarry here, but I had 
to go two hundred miles further down stream, to another Indian 
town ; the morning being extremely cold, I applied to a French 
merchant, or trader, for some old rags of clothing, for I was almost 
naked, but to no purpose. 

About ten o’clock, were ordered into a battoe, on our way down 
the river, with eight or nine Indians, one of whom was the man 
wounded in the skirmish before mentioned; at night we went on 
shore ; the snow being much deeper than before, we cleared it away 
and made a large fire; here, when the wounded Indian cast his eyes 
upon me, his old grudge revived ; he took my blanket from me, and 
commanded me to dance round the fire, bare foot, and sing the priso¬ 
ner’s song, which I utterly refused ; this surprised one of my fellow 
prisoners, who told me they would put me to death, (for he under¬ 
stood what they said,) he therefore tried to persuade me to comply, 
but I desired him to let me alone, and was, through great mercy, 
enabled to reject his importunity with abhorrence. The Indian also 
continued urging, saying, You shall dance and sing ; but apprehend¬ 
ing my compliance sinful, I determined to persist in declining it at 
all hazards, and to leave the issue to the Divine disposal. The In¬ 
dian, perceiving his orders disobeyed, was fired with indignation, 
and endeavored to push me into the fire, which I leapt over, and he 
being weak with his wounds, and not being assisted by any of his 
brethren, was obliged to desist. 

Friday morning, I was almost perished with cold. Saturday, 
proceeded on our way, and soon came in sight of an inhabited part 
of Canada; here I was in great hopes of some relief, but when we 
came near some rapid falls of water, one of my fellow prisoners, and 
several Indians, together with myself, were put on shore, to travel 
by land, which pleased me well, it being much warmer running on 
the snow, than lying still in the battoe. We passed by several 
French houses, but stopped at none ; the vessel going down a rapid 
stream, it required haste to keep pace with her; we crossed over a 
point of land, and found the battoe waiting for us, as near the shore 
as the ice would permit: here we left St. Lawrence, and turned up 
Conasadauga river, but it being frozen up, we hauled our battoe on 
shore, and each of us took our share of her loading on our backs, 
and marched towards Conasadauga, an Indian town, which was our 
designed port, but could not reach it that night:—came to a French 
house, cold, weary and hungry ; here my old friend, the wounded 
Indian, again appeared, and related to the Frenchman, the affair of 
my refusing to dance, who immediately assisted the Indian to strip 
me of my flannel vest, before mentioned, which was my all. Now 
they were resolved to compel me to dance and sing. The French¬ 
man was as violent as the Indian, in promoting this imposition ; but 
the w r omen belonging to the house, seeing the rough usage I had, 
took pity on me, and rescued me out of their hands, till their heat 


EASTBURN*S NARRATIVE. 


207 


was over, and prevailed with the Indian to excuse me from dancing; 
but he insisted that I must be shaved, and then he would let me 
alone, (I had at that time a long beard, which the Indians hate,) with 
this motion I readily complied, and then the Indian seemed content. 

Sunday, April 11th,—set off towards Conasadauga, travelled about 
two hours, and then saw the town, over a great river, which was 
still frozen ; the Indians stopped, and we were soon joined with a 
number of our company, which we had not seen for several days : 
the prisoners, in number eight, were ordered to lay down the packs, 
and be painted ; the wounded Indian painted me, and put a belt of 
wampum round my neck, instead of the rope which I had worn 400 
miles. We then sat off towards the town, on the ice, which was 
four miles over; our heads w r ere not allowed to be covered, lest our 
fine paint should be hid, the weather in the mean time so cold, as 
nearly to freeze our ears ; after we had advanced nearer to the town, 
the Indian women came out to meet us, and relieved their husbands 
of their packs. 

As soon as we landed at Conasadauga, a large body of Indians 
came and encompassed us round, and ordered the prisoners to dance 
and sing the prisoner’s song, (which I still declined,) at the conclu¬ 
sion of which the Indians gave a shout, opened the ring to let us 
run, and then fell on us with their fists, and knocked several down; 
in the mean time one ran before to direct us to an Indian house, 
which was open, and as soon as we got in, we were beat no more; 
my head was sore with beating, and pained me several days. The 
squaws were kind to us, gave us boiled corn and beans to eat, and 
fire to warm us, which was a great mercy, for I was both cold and 
hungry : this town lies about 30 miles north-west of Montreal ; I 
staid here till the ice was gone, which was about ten days, and then 
was sent to Cohnevvago, in company with some Indians, who, when 
they came within hearing, gave notice by their way of shouting, 
that they had a prisoner, on which the whole town rose to welcome 
me, which was the more distressing, as there w r as no other prisoner 
in their hands ; when we came near shore, a stout Indian took hold 
of me, and hauled me into the water, which was knee deep, and very 
cold. As soon as I got ashore the Indians gathered round me and 
ordered me to dance and sing, although I was stiff with cold and 
wet and lying long in the canoe. I only stamped to prepare for my 
race, and was encompassed with about 500 Indians who danced and 
sung, and at last gave a shout, and opened the circle; about 150 young 
lads made ready to pelt me with dirt and gravel stones, and on my 
setting off, gave me a volley, without my suffering great hurt; but 
an Indian seeing me run, met me, and held me fast, till the boys had 
stored themselves again with dirt and small stones, and then let me 
run, when I fared much worse than before, for a small stone among 
the mud, hit my right eye, and my head and face were so covered 
with the-dirt, that I could scarcely see my way; but discovering a 
<loor of an Indian house standing open, I ran in : from this retreat I 
was soon hauled to be pelted more; but the Indian women, being 
18* 


208 


eastburn’s narrative. 


more merciful, interposed, took me into a house, brought me water 
to wash, and gave me boiled corn and beans to eat. The next day 
I was brought to the centre of the town, and cried, according to the 
Indian custom, in order to be sent to a family of Indians, 200 miles 
up stream, at Oswegotchy, and there to be adopted, and abused no 
more. To this end I was delivered to three young meii, who said 
I was their brother, and set forward on our way to the aforesaid 
town, with about twenty more Indians, but by reason of bad wea¬ 
ther we were obliged to encamp on a cold, stony shore, three days, 
and then proceeded on ; we called at Conasadauga, and staid there 
about a week, in which time I went and viewed four houses at a 
distance from the town, about a quarter of a mile from each other; 
in these houses are represented, in large paint work, the sufferings 
of our Saviour, with design to draw the Indians to the papist reli¬ 
gion ; the work is curiously done : a little farther stand three houses 
near together, on the top of a high hill, which they call Mount Cal¬ 
vary, with three large crosses before them, which completes the 
whole represetation. To all these houses, the priests and Indians 
repair in performing their grand processions, which takes up much 
time. 

We sat off on our journey for Oswegotchy, against a rapid stream, 
and being long in it, and our provisions growing short, the Indians 
put to shore a little before night; my lot was to get wood, others 
were ordered to get fire, and some to hunt; our kettle was put over 
the fire with some pounded Indian corn, and after it had boiled about 
two hours, my oldest Indian brother returned with a female beaver, 
big with young, which he soon cut to pieces, and threw into the 
kettle, together with the entrails, and took the four young beavers, 
whole as they came from the dam, put them also into the kettle, and 
when all was well boiled gave each one of us a large dishful of the 
broth, of which we ate freely, and then part of the old beaver, the 
tail of which was divided equally among us, there being eight at our 
fire; the four young beaver were cut in the middle and each of us 
got half of one. I watched an opportunity to hide my share (having 
satisfied myself before the tender dish came to hand) which if they 
had seen, would have much displeased them. The other Indians 
catched young musk-rats, ran a stick through their bodies, and 
roasted, without being skinned or gutted, and so ate them. Next 
morning we hastened on our journey, which continued several days, 
till we came near Oswegotchy, where we landed about three miles 
from the town, on the opposite side of the river; here I was to be 
adopted ; my father and mother that I had never seen before, were 
waiting, and ordered me into an Indian house, where we were direc¬ 
ted to sit down silent for a considerable time ; the Indians appeared 
very sad, and my mother began to cry, and continued crying aloud 
for some time; she then dried up her tears, and received me for her 
son, and took me over the river to the Indian town ; the next day I 
was ordered to go to mass with them, but I refused once and again, 
yet they continued their importunity several days, saying it was good 


eastbtjrn’s narrative. 


209 


to go to mass, but I still refused ; and seeing they could not prevail 
with me, they seemed much displeased with their new son.- I was 
then sent over the river, to be employed in hard labor, as a punish¬ 
ment for not going to mass, and not allowed a sight of, or any con¬ 
versation with my fellow prisoners; the old Indian man that I was 
ordered to work with, had a wife and some children; he took me 
into the woods with him, and made signs that I must chop, giving 
me an axe ; the Indian soon saw that I could handle the axe. Here 
I tried to reconcile myself to this employment, that they might have 
no accusation against me, except concerning the law of my God; 
the old man began to appear kind, and his wife gave me milk and 
bread when we came home, and when she got fish, gave me the gills 
to eat, out of real kindness ; but perceiving I did not like them, gave 
me my own choice and behaved lovingly ! When we had finished 
our fence, which had employed us about a week, I shewed the old 
squaw my shirt (having worn it from the time I was first taken 
prisoner, which was about seven weeks) all in rags and filth ; she 
said it was not good, and brought me a new one, with ruffled sleeves, 
saying, that is good, which I thankfully accepted. The next day 
they carried me back to the Indian town, and admitted me to con¬ 
verse with my fellow prisoners, who told me we were all to be sent 
to Montreal, which accordingly came to pass. 

On our arrival at Montreal, we had our lodging first in the Jesuit’s 
Convent, where I saw a great number of priests, and people that 
came to confession; after some stay, we were ordered to attend, 
with the Indians, at a grand council, held before the head General 
Yaudriel ; we prisoners sat in our rank (surrounded with our fathers 
and brethren) but were asked no questions: The General had a 
number of officers to attend him in council, where a noted priest, 
called Picket, sat at his right hand, who understood the Indian 
tongue well, and did more hurt to the English, than any other of his 
order in Canada. Here I was informed that some measures were 
concerted to destroy Oswego, which they had been long preparing 
to execute ; we, in our journey, met many battoes going up stream, 
with provision and men for an attack on our frontiers, which con¬ 
firmed the report: The council adjourned to another day, and then 
broke up. My Indian father and mother took me with them to 
several of their old acquaintances, who were French, to shew them 
their lately adopted son ; these persons had been concerned, with 
my father and other Indians, in destroying many English families in 
their younger days ; and (as one standing by who understood their 
language said,) were boasting of their former murders ! After some 
days the council was again called, before which several of the Oneida 
chiefs appeared, and offered some complaint against the French’s 
attacking our carrying-place, it being their land ; but the General 
laboured to make them easy, and gave them sundry presents of 
value, which they accepted: After which, I knowing these Indians 
were acquainted with Captain Williams at the carrying-place, sent 
a letter by them, to let my family and friends know I was yet alive, 


eastburn’s narrative. 


310 

and longed for redemption ; but it never came to hand. The treaty 
being ended, the General sent about ten gallons of red wine to the 
Indians, which they divided among us ; next came the presents, 
consisting of coats, blankets, shirts, skins, (to make Indian shoes) 
cloth (to make stockings) powder, lead, shot, and to each a bag of 
paint, for their own use, &c. After we prisoners had our share, my 
mother came to me with an interpreter, and told me I might stay in 
the town, at a place she had found for me, if I pleased (this was 
doubtless the consequence of my declining to obey her orders, in 
some instances that affected my conscience ;) this proposal I almost 
agreed to ; but one of my fellow prisoners, with whom I had before 
some discourse about making our escape from the Indian town, 
opposed the motion, and said, “ pray, do not stay, for if you do, we 
shall not be able to form a plan for our deliveranceon which I 
told her I chose to go home with her, and soon set off by land on 
our way thither, to Lascheen, distant from Montreal about 9 miles, 
where we left our canoes, and then proceeded, without delay, on our 
journey. 

Alter a painful and distressing journey, we arrived at Oswegotchy, 
where we saw many battoes, with provision and soldiers, daily 
passing by on their way to Frontenac, which greatly distressed me 
for Oswego ! Hence I resolved, if possible, to give our people 
notice of their danger : to this end, I told two of my fellow prisoners 
that it was not a time to sleep, and asked if they would go with me ; 
to this they heartily agreed ; but we had no provision, were closely 
eyed by the enemy, and could not lay up a stock out of our allow¬ 
ance : however, at this time, Mr. Picket (before mentioned) had 
concluded to dig a large trench round the town ; I therefore went to a 
negro, the principal manager of this work, who could speak English, 
French and Indian well, and asked him, if he could get employ for 
two others, and mysell, which he soon did; for which we were to 
have meat and wages. Here we had a prospect of procuring provi¬ 
sion for our flight; this I in some time effected for myself, and then 
asked my brethren if they were ready, who replied that they were 
not yet, but said, Ann Bowman, our fellow prisoner, had brought 
one hundred and thirty dollars from Bull’s Fort, and would give 
them all they had need of; I told them it was not safe to disclose 
such a secret to her, but they blamed me for my fears, and applied 
to her for provision, letting her know our intention, who immediately 
informed the priest of it; on which we were apprehended, the 
Indians apprised of our design, and a court called, by order of 
which, four of us were confined under a strong guard, in a room 
within the Fort, for several days. 

From hence, another and myself were sent to Cohnewago, under 
a strong guard of sixty Indians to prevent my plotting any more 
against the French, and to banish all hopejjof my escape ; however, 
when we arrived at this place, it pleased that gracious God who has 
the hearts of all creatures in his hand, to incline the Captain of the 
guard to shew me great kindness, in giving me liberty to walk or work 


eastburn’s narrative. 


211 


where I pleased, within any small distance ; on which I went to work 
with a French smith, for six livres and five sous |per week, which the 
captain let me have to myself, and farther favored me with the privilege 
of lodging at the house of his mother, an English woman, named Mary 
Harris, taken captive when a child, from Dearfield in New England, 
who told me she was my grand-mother, and was kind ; but the wages 
being small, and not sufficient to procure such clothing as I was in want 
of,I proceeded no farther with the French smith, but went to my uncle 
Peter, and told him 1 wanted clothes, and that it would be better to 
let me go to Montreal, and work there, where 1 could clothe myself 
better than by staying with him, and that without any charge to 
him ;—after some reasoning, he consented. 

I then set off on my journey to Montreal, and on entering the city, 
metan English smith, who took me to work with him; after some time, 
we settled to work in a shop opposite to the General’s door, where 
we had an opportunity of seeing a great part of the forces of Canada, 
both soldiers and Indians who were commonly brought there before 
their going out to war ; and likewise all prisoners, by which means 
we got intelligence how our people were preparing for defence ; but 
no good news from Oswego, which made me fear, knowing that 
great numbers of French were gone against it, and hearing of but 
few to defend it. Prayers were put up in all the churches of Canada, 
and great processions made, in order to procure success to their 
arms, against poor Oswego ; but our people knew little of their 
danger, till it was too late. To my surprize, the dismal news came, 
that the French had taken one of the Oswego Forts ; in a few hours, 
in confirmation of this, I saw the English standards, (the melancholy 
trophy of victory,) and the French rejoicing at our downfal, and 
mocking us poor prisoners in our exile and extremity, which was 
no great argument either of humanity, or true greatness of mind ; 
great joy appeared in all their faces, which they expressed by loud 
shouts, firing of cannon, and returning thanks in their churches ; 
but our faces were covered with shame, and our hearts filled with 
grief! Soon after, I saw several of the officers brought in prisoners, 
in small parties, and the soldiers in the same manner, who were 
confined within the walls, in a starving condition, in order to make 
them work, which some complied with, but others bravely refused ; 
and last of all came the tradesmen, among whom was my son, who, 
looking round, saw his father, who he thought had long been dead; 
this joyful sight so affected him that he wept!—nor could I, in 
seeing my son, remain unconcerned !—no ; the force of a father’s 
tenderness on such an occasion, I am not able to express, and there¬ 
fore will not attempt it.—But he, with all my Philadelphia friends, 
being guarded by soldiers, with fixed bayonets, we could not come 
near each other ; they were sent to the common pound ; but I has¬ 
tened to the interpreter, to try if I could get my child at liberty, 
which was soon effected. When we had the happiness of an inter¬ 
view, he gave me some information of the state of our family, and 
told me, as soon as the news was sent home that I was killed, or 


212 


eastburn’s narrative. 


taken, his mother was not allowed any more support from my wages, 
which grieved me much, and added to my other afflictions. 

When the people taken at Oswego were setting out on their way 
to Quebec, I made application for liberty to go with them ; but the 
interpreter replied, that I was an Indian prisoner, and the General 
would not suffer it, till the Indians were satisfied ; and as they lived 
two hundred miles from Montreal, it could not be done at that time : 
finding that all arguments farther on that head, would not avail, 
because I was not included in the capitulation, I told the interpreter, 
my son must go and leave me, in order to be ready at Quebec to go 
home when the Oswego people went, which probably would be 
soon ; he replied that it would be better to keep him with me, for 
he might be the means of getting me clear much sooner. 

The officers belonging to Oswego, would gladly have had me with 
them, but found it impracticable ; this is an instance of kindness and 
condescension, for which I am obliged. Captain Bradley, gave me 
a good coat, vest and shirt, ; and a young gentleman, who formerly 
lived in Philadelphia, gave four pistoles (his name is James Stone— 
he was a doctor at Oswego.) This money, together with what my 
son brought, I was in hopes would go far towards procuring my 
release, from my Indian masters ; but seeing a number of prisoners 
in sore distress, among whom were, Captains Grant and Shepherd, 
and about seven more in company, I thought it my duty to relieve 
them, and commit my release to the disposal of Providence : nor was 
this suffered to turn to my disadvantage in the issue, for my deliver¬ 
ance was brought about in due time, in another and unexpected way. 
This company informed me of their intention to escape—accordingly 
I gave them all the help in my power, saw them clear of the town, 
on a Saturday evening before the centries were set at the gates, advis¬ 
ed them not to part from each other, and delivered to Capt. Shepherd 
two pocket compasses ; but they, contrary to this counsel, parted, 
and saw each other no more : by their separating, Captain Grant 
and Serjeant Newel were deprived of the benefit of a compass ; the 
other party got safe to Fort William Henry, as I was informed by 
Serjeant Henry, who was brought in prisoner, being taken in a 
battle when the gallant and indefatigable Captain Rogers made a 
brave stand, against more than twice his number. 

In the latter part of the winter, coal and iron were so scarce, that 
it was difficult to get any more work ; I then offered to work for my 
food and lodging, rather than be thrust into a stinking dungeon, or 
sent among the Indians: The interpreter took some pains to effect 
this, but without success; however, as I offered to work without 
wages, a Frenchman took me and my son in, upon these terms, till a 
better berth presented; here we staid one week, but heard of no 
other place ; he then offered me and my son 30 livers per month 
to strike and blow the bellows, which I did for about two months, 
was then discharged, and travelled about from place to place, having 
no fixed abode, being obliged to lay out the small remains of my 
cash in buying a little victuals, taking a hay-loft for my lodgings ; 


eastburn’s narrative. 


213 


I then made my case known to the kind interpreter, and requested 
him to consider of some means for my relief, who replied that he 
would ; in the mean time, as I was taking a walk in the city I met 
an Indian prisoner, that belonged to the town where my father lived, 
who reported, that a great part of the Indians there were just come 
with a resolution to carry me back, with them ; and knowing him 
to be a very honest fellow, I believed the truth of it, and fled from 
the town to be concealed from the Indians ; in the mean while, 
schemes were formed for an escape, the issue of which was 
fortunate. General Vaudriel gave me and my son liberty, under his 
hand, to go to Quebec, and work there at our pleasure without con¬ 
finement, as prisoners of war, by which means I was freed from 
paying a ransom. 

The commissary, Monsieur Partwe, being about to set off for 
Quebec, my son informed me that I must come to town in the even¬ 
ing, a passage being provided for us: I waited till near dark, and 
then entered the town, with great care, to escape the Indians, who 
kept watch for me (and had done so for some time) which made it 
very difficult and dangerous to move; however, as they had no know¬ 
ledge of my son, he could watch their motions, without suspicion 
(the providence of God is a great deep : this help was provided for 
my extremity, not only beyond my expectation, but contrary to my 
design.) In the morning, upon seeing an Indian set to watch for me, 
I quickly made my escape through the back part of the house, over 
some high pickets, and out of the city, to the river side, and fled. 
A friend, knowing my scheme for deliverance, kindly assisted me to 
conceal myself: The commissary had by this time got ready for his 
voyage, of which my son giving me notice, I immediately, with no 
lingering motion, repaired to the boat, was received on board set oft’ 
quite undiscovered, and saw the Indians no more,—a very narrow 
and surprizing escape from a violent death !—for they had deter¬ 
mined to kill me, in case I ever attempted to leave them, which lays 
me under the strongest obligations to improve a life, rescued from the 
jaws of so many deaths, to the honour of my gracious Benefactor. 
But to return, the commissary, upon seeing the dismission I had 
from the General treated us courteously. 

Arrived at Quebec, May 1st. The honorable Col. Peter Schuyler, 
hearing of my coming there, kindly sent for me, and after enquiries 
about my welfare, &c. generously told me I should be supplied, and 
need not trouble myself for support: this public-spirited gentleman, 
who is indeed an honour to his country, did in like manner nobly 
relieve many other poor prisoners at Quebec.—Here I had full liberty 
to walk where I pleased and view the city, which is well situated for 
strength, but far from being impregnable. 

Our cartel being ready, I obtained liberty to go to England in her ; 
we set sail the 23d of July, 1757, in the morning; in 28 days we 
arrived at Plymouth, which occasioned great joy, for we were ragged, 
lousy, sick, and in a manner starved; and many of the prisoners, 
who in all were about three hundred in number, were sick of the 


214 


eastburn’s narrative. 


small-pox. My son and self, having each a blanket coat, which we 
bought in Canada to keep us warm, and now expecting relief, gave 
them to two poor sick men, almost naked. We were not allowed 
to go on shore, but removed to a king’s ship, and sent to Portsmouth, 
where we were confined onboard near two weeks, and then removed 
to the Mermaid, to be sent to Boston; we now repented our well 
meant, though rash charity, in giving our coats away as we were 
not to get any more, all application to the Captain for any kind of 
covering being in vain; our joy was turned into sorrow at the 
prospect oi coming on a cold coast in the beginning of winter, almost 
naked, which was not a little increased, by a near view of our mother 
country, the soil and comforts of which we were not suffered to touch 
or taste. 

September 6th : Set sail for Boston, with a fleet in convoy, at 
which we arrived on the 7th of November, in the evening ; it being 
dark, and we strangers, and poor, it was difficult to get a lodging 
(I had no shoes, and but pieces of stockings, and the weather very 
cold ;) we were indeed directed to a tavern, but found cold entertain¬ 
ment there ;—the master of the house seeing a ragged and lousy 
company, turned us out to wander in the dark;—he was suspicious 
of us, and feared we came from Halifax, where the small-pox then 
was, and told us he was ordered not to receive such as came from 
thence : We soon met a young man who said he could find a lodging 
for us, but still detained us by asking many questions; on which I 
told him we were in no condition to answer, till we came to a proper 
place, which he quickly found, where we were used well; but, as 
we were lousy, could not expect beds. The next morning, we 
made application for clothing ; Mr. Erwing, son-in-law to the late 
General Shirley, gave us relief, not only in apparel, but also three 
dollars per man, to bear our charges to Newport. When I put on 
fresh clothes, 1 was seized with a cold fit, which was followed by a 
high fever, and in that condition obliged to travel on foot, as far as 
Providence, on our way to Rhode-Island (our money not being 
sufficient to hire any carriage, and find us what was needful for 
support:) In this journey I was exceedingly dstressed—our com¬ 
forts in this life, are often alloyed with miseries, which are doubtless 
great mercies when suitably improved ; at Newport, met with Capt. 
Gibbs, and agreed with him for our passage to New York, where we 
arrived, November 21st, found many friends, who expressed much 
satisfaction at our return, and treated us kindly. 

November 26th, 1757—Arrived at Philadelphia, to the great joy 
of all my friends, and particularly of my poor afflicted wife and family, 
who thought they should never see me again, till we met beyond the 
grave; being returned, sick and weak in body, and empty-handed, 
not having any thing for my family’s and my own support, several 
humane and generous persons, of different denominations, in this 
city, without any application of mine, directly or indirectly, freely 
gave seasonable relief; for which may God grant them blessings in 
this world, and in the world to come everlasting life. 


A NARRATIVE 

OF THE CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS OF 


BENJAMIN GILBERT 

AND II IS FAMILY, 

Who ivere surprised by the Indians and taken from their farms , 
on the frontier of Pennsylvania , in the Spring of 1780. 


Benjamin Gilbert had been, for five years before his capture by 
the Indians, the owner and occupier of a farm, situate on Mahoning 
Creek, in Penn township, Northampton county, Pennsylvania, not 
far from where Fort Allen was built. The improvements he had 
made during this period, were such as were of great value in a new 
settlement. They were, besides a convenient log house and log 
barn, a saw mill and commodious stone grist mill. But from this 
scene of comfort, the back-woods-man , with his family, was des¬ 
tined soon to be torn away; and the improvements, erected at great 
cost, and with much difficulty, upon the borders of the wilderness, 
were scarcely completed, ere they were doomed to flames. 

On the 25th day of April, 1780, about sunrise, the family were 
alarmed by a party of Indians, who came upon them so suddenly, 
that to have attempted to escape would have been useless. Their 
only chance of saving their lives was to surrender.—Without resis¬ 
tance they therefore gave themselves up to their savage foes, hoping, 
yet scarcely expecting, to escape from death by being carried off to 
endure the horrors of an Indian captivity. 

The Indians who made this incursion were of different tribes, 
who had abandoned their country upon the approach of General 
Sullivan’s army, and fled within command of the British forts in 
Canada, settling promiscuously within their neighborhood, and, 
according to Indian custom, carrying on war, frequently invading 
the frontier settlements, and taking captive the surprized and defence¬ 
less inhabitants. The present party consisted of two half breeds, 
descended from a Mohawk and French woman, three Cayugas, one 
Delaware, and five Senecas—in all eleven. The two Mohawk half 
breeds, whose names were Rowland Monteur and John Monteur, 
seemed to have command of the party. 

19 


216 


gilbert’s narrative. 


The prisoners taken at the house of Mr. Gilbert were, himself, 
his wife, his sons Joseph, Jesse and Abner, his daughters Rebecca 
and Elizabeth, his daughter-in-law, Sarah Gilbert, wife of his son 
Jesse, Thomas Peart, a son of Mrs. Gilbert by a former husband, 
Benjamin Gilbert, jr., a grandson, Andrew Harrigar, a German labo¬ 
rer in the employment of Mr. Gilbert, and Abigail Dodson, a girl 
about fourteen years of age, who had been sent that morning by one 
of the neighbors with a grist to the mill. 

With these captives the Indians proceeded about half a mile, to 
the house of Benjamin Peart, (another son of Mrs. Gilbert,) whom, 
with his wife and their child about nine months old, they also 
captured. 

The prisoners were here bound with cords, and left under a guard 
for half an hour, during which time the rest of the Indians employed 
themselves in pillaging the house, and packing up such goods as 
they chose to carry off, until they had got together a sufficient load¬ 
ing for three horses, which they took. This completed, they began 
their retreat, two of their number being detatched to fire the build¬ 
ings. From an eminence called Summer Hill, which they passed 
over, the captives could observe the flames and the falling in of the 
roofs of their houses.—They cast back a mournful look towards 
their dwellings, but were not permitted to stop until they had reach¬ 
ed the further side of the hill, where the party sat down to make a 
short repast; but grief prevented the prisoners from sharing it. 

The Indians speedily put forwards again—not being so far remo¬ 
ved from the settlement as to be secure from pursuit. A little fur¬ 
ther on was a hill called Machunk, where they halted nearly an 
hour, and prepared moekasons for some of the children. 

Resuming their journey, they passed over another steep hill, and 
in a short time they reached Broad Mountain, the prisoners wearied 
and almost exhausted. Mrs. Gilbert, who was nearly sixty years 
of age, believing herself unable to make the ascent of this mountain 
on foot, sat down in weariness of body and in anguish of spirit, de¬ 
claring she could proceed no farther. But being threatened by the 
Indians with instant death, if she delayed them in their journey, she 
was compelled to make her toilsome way up the mountain, nearly 
fainting at every step. Having reached the summit, the captives 
were permitted to rest for about an hour.—The Broad Mountain is 
said to be seven miles across, and about ten miles from Gilbert’s 
settlement. 

Leaving Broad Mountain, they struck into Neskapeck path, which 
they followed the remainder of the day, crossing Quackac Creek, 
and passing over Pismire Hill and through the Moravian Pine 
Swamp, to Mahoniah Mountain, where they lodged that night. 
The prisoners were allowed, for beds, branches of hemlock strewed 
on the ground, and blankets for covering—an indulgence scarcely to 
have been expected from their savage captors. To prevent their 
escape, however, a contrivance was resorted to that completely 
marred the little comfort they might otherwise have enjoyed. A 


gilbert’s narrative. 


217 


sapling about the thickness of a man’s thigh was cut down, in which 
notches were made; the legs of the prisoners were then placed in 
the notches, and another sapling placed over the first and made fast; 
a cord was also put about their necks and fastened to a tree: thus 
effectually confining them, in this stretched-out position, all night 
upon their backs. 

Early the next morning they continued their route near the waters 
of Terapin Ponds.—The Indians that day deemed it best to separate 
the prisoners in companies of two, each company under the com¬ 
mand of a particular Indian, spreading them to a considerable dis¬ 
tance, in order to render a pursuit as nearly impracticable as possible. 
During the day, the Indian under whose direction Benjamin Gilbert 
and his wife were placed, frequently threatened them with instant 
death, whenever from fatigue they began to lag in their journey. 
Towards evening the parties again met and encamped. Having 
killed a deer, they kindled a fire and roasted the flesh, each man 
holding a piece of it over the coals or in the flame, by means of 
pointed sticks.—The confinement of the captives was similar to that 
which they endured the night before. 

After breakfast the next morning, a council was held concerning 
the division of the prisoners. An allotment being made, they were 
delivered to their several masters, with instructions to obey the com¬ 
mands of the particular Indian whose property they became. In 
this day’s journey they passed near Fort Wyoming, on the Eastern 
branch of Susquehanna, about forty miles from their late habitation. 
The Indians were alarmed as they approached this garrison, and 
observed great caution, suffering not the least unnecessary noise, and 
stepping on the stones that lay on the path, lest any footsteps should 
lead to a discovery.—The night was spent on the banks of a stream 
emptying itself into the Susquehanna, not far distant from the fort. 
On the following morning the prisoners were all painted, according 
to Indian custom, some of them with red and black, some all red, 
and others with black only. Those whom they paint black, without 
the mixture of any other color, are in most cases devoted to death; 
and although they are not usually killed immediately, they are sel¬ 
dom preserved to reach the Indian hamlets alive.—In the evening of 
this day, they came to the Susquehanna, having had a painful and 
wearisome journey over a very stony and hilly country. Here the 
Indians were more than ordinarily careful in seeking a secluded 
lodging-place, that they might be as secure as possible from any 
scouting parties of the white people. In the night their horses 
strayed away from them, and it was late the next morning before 
they found them and were ready to proceed on their journey. Their 
course lay along the river. In the afternoon they came to a place 
where the Indians had left four negroes, with a supply of corn for 
their subsistance, waiting their return. These negroes had escaped 
from their masters, and were on their way to Niagara when first 
discovered hy the Indians. Being challenged by the latter, they 
said they “ were for the king,” upon which they were received into 
protection. 


218 


gilbert’s narrative. 


It was not to the comfort of the prisoners that these negroes were 
added to the company. They manifested an insolence and domineer¬ 
ing spirit which were almost intolerable, frequently insulting the 
captives, whipping them in mere wantonness and sport, and in all 
respects treating them with more severity than the Indians did 
themselves. 

On the first of May, the whole company came to a place where 
two Indians lay dead at the side of the path. Two others had been 
killed there but were removed. The captives were informed that a 
party of Indians had taken some white people whom they were 
carrying off as prisoners ; the latter rose upon their captors in the 
night time, killed four of them, and then effected their escape. When 
the present company came to this place the women were sent 
forward, and the male captives commanded to draw near and view 
the dead bodies. After remaining to observe them for some time, 
they were ordered to a place where a tree was blown down. They 
were then directed to dig a grave ; to effect which they sharpened a 
piece ol sapling with a tomahawk, with which rude instrument one 
of them broke the ground, and the others threw out the earth with 
their hands ; the negroes being permitted to beat them severely all 
the time they were thus employed. The bodies were deposited in 
the grave, and the prisoners marched a short distance farther, where 
they found the Indians who had gone forward with the women, 
preparing a lodging place for the night.—The captives were still 
secured every night in the manner already described. 

The next day, towards evening, they crossed the east branch of 
the Susquehanna in canoes, at the same place where Gen. Sullivan’s 
army had crossed it in the expedition against the Indians. The 
horses swam the river by the side of the canoe. Their encampment 
that night was on the western bank of the stream ; but two Indians 
who did not cross it, sent for Benjamin Gilbert, jun., and Jesse 
Gilbert’s wife.—Not being able to assign any probable cause for this 
order, the remaining captives spent the night in great anxiety and 
uneasiness of mind. The next morning, however, their fears were 
dispelled by seeing their companions again, who had received no 
worse treatment than usual. This day the Indians, in their march, 
found a scalp which they took along with them, and also some corn 
of which they made a supper. They frequently killed deer, which 
was the only provision the party had, as the flour which they took 
with them from the settlement was expended. 

On the 4th of May the party was divided into two companies : 
the one taking a path to the westward, with whom were Thomas 
Peart, Joseph Gilbert, Benjamin Gilbert, jun. and Jesse Gilbert’s 
wife ; the other company travelled more to the north. 

In the evening, as the company that took the northern route was 
about to encamp, the prisoners enquired of their captors what had 
become of their four companions who had been taken the western 
path.—The reply was, “ They are killed and scalped, and you may 
expect the same fate to night,” Andrew Harrigar was so terrified 


gilbert’s narrative. 


219 


at the threat that he resolved upon flight. As soon as it was dark 
he took a kettle, wilh pretence of bringing some water, and made his 
escape under cover of the night. Pursuit was made by several of 
the Indians as soon as he was missing; they remained out all night 
in search of him. They were not able, however, to overtake him, 
and in the morning they returned. Harrigar endured many hard¬ 
ships in the woods, and at length reached the settlements, and gave 
the first authentic intelligence of the captives to their friends and 
neighbors. 

After this escape, the prisoners were treated with great severity 
on account of it, and were often accused of being privy to the design 
of Harrigar. Rowland Monteur carried his resentment so far that 
he threw Jesse Gilbert down, and lifted his tomahawk to strike him, 
which Mrs. Gilbert prevented by placing her head on that of her son 
and beseeching the enraged savage to spare him. Turning round, 
he kicked her over, and then tied both mother and son by their necks 
to a tree, where they remained until his fury was a little abated ; he 
then loosed them, and bid them pack up and go forwards. In the 
evening they came to one of the deserted towns of the Shipquegas, 
and took their lodging in one of the wigwams still standing. The 
Shipquegas towns had been abandoned a short time before, upon the 
approach of Gen. Sullivan’s army. The party remained for three 
days among the deserted villages of this tribe. Besides an abundance 
of game here, there were plenty of potatoes and turnips remaining in 
the fields attached to the villages, which had not been destroyed by 
the invading army. Several hor-es were also taken here, which had 
been left by the Shipquegas in their hasty flight. Upon resuming 
their march, Mrs. Gilbert was placed upon one of these horses, 
which seemed wild and dangerous to ride, but she was not thrown, 
she continued to ride him for several days. 

The day they renewed their journey, they first passed through a 
long and dreary swamp, and then began the ascent of a rugged 
mountain, where there was no path. The underwood made it diffi¬ 
cult for the women to ascend; but they were compelled to keep pace 
with their masters, however great the fatigue. When the mountain 
was crossed, the party tarried awhile for the negroes, who lagged 
behind with the horses that carried the baggage. The whole com¬ 
pany being now together, they agreed to encamp in a swamp not far 
distant. A long reach of savannas and low grounds rendered their 
next day’s journey very fatiguing and painful, especially to the 
women; anil Elizabeth Peart in particular was wearied almost to 
fainting, by being compelled to carry her child, her husband not be¬ 
ing permitted to carry it for her, or to lend her the least assistance; 
and once when she was just ready to drop from fatigue, the Indian 
who had charge of her, struck her a violent blow, to impel her 
forward. 

On the third day after their departure from the Shipquagas villages, 
their provisions began to fail them; and there was no game in the 
19* 


220 


gilbert’s narrative. 


country through which they journeyed. At night, worn down with 
toil, and suffering from the want of food, Mrs. Gilbert was seized 
with a chill. The Indians, however, gave her some flour and water 
boiled, which afforded her some relief.—But the next day she was 
so weak that she could only get along by the assistance of two of 
her children—her horse having been taken from her. 

On the 14th of May they came to Catiadosago, where they met 
with Benjamin Gilbert, jr., and Jesse Gilbert’s wife Sarah, two of 
the four captives that had been separated from the rest for the last 
ten days, and taken along the western path. On the same day, 
John Huston, jr., the younger of the Cayuga Indians, under whose 
care Benjamin Gilbert, sen., was placed, designing to despatch him, 
painted him black; this exceedingly terrified the family ; but no 
entreaties of theirs being likely to prevail, they resigned their cause 
to Him whose power can control all events. Wearied with travel¬ 
ing, and weak from the want of food, they made a stop to recover 
themselves ; when the elder of the Cayugas, who had been sent 
forward with Abner Gilbert two days before to procure a supply of 
provision, returned, assuring them that a supply was at hand. 

The negroes were reduced so low with hunger, that their beha¬ 
viour was different from what it had been, conducting themselves 
with more moderation. At their quarters, in the evening, two while 
men came to them, one of whom was a volunteer amongst the Brit¬ 
ish, the other had been taken prisoner some time before ; these two 
men brought some hommony, and sugar made from the sweet maple ; 
of this provision, and a hedge-hog which they found, they made a 
more comfortable supper than they had enjoyed for many days. 

In the morning the volunteer, having received information of the 
rough treatment the prisoners met with from the negroes, relieved 
them, by taking the four blacks under his care.—It was not without 
much difficulty they crossed a large creek which was in their way, 
being obliged to swim the horses over it. Benjamin Gilbert began 
to fail; the Indian, whose property he was, highly irritated at his 
want of strength, put a rope about his neck, leading him along with 
it; fatigue at last so overcame him, that he fell on the ground, when 
the Indian pulled the rope so hard, that he almost choaked him : 
his wife seeing this resolutely interceded for him, although the 
Indians bid her go forward, as the others had gone on before them ; 
this she refused to comply with, unless her husband might be per¬ 
mitted to accompany her; they replied “ that they had determined 
to kill the old man,” having before this set him apart as a victim : 
but at length her entreaties prevailed, and their hearts were turned 
from their cruel purpose.—When their anger was a little moderated, 
they sat forward to overtake the rest of the company : their relations, 
who had been witnesses of the former part of this scene of cruelty, 
and expected they would both have been murdered, rejoiced greatly 
at their return, considering their safety as a Providential deliverance. 

Necessity induced two of the Indians the next day to set off on 
horse back, into the Seneca country, in search of provisions. The 


gilbert’s narrative. 


221 


prisoners, in the mean time, were ordered to dig up a root, some¬ 
thing resembling a potatoe, which the Indians call whappanies. 
They tarried at this place, until towards the evening of the succeed¬ 
ing day, and made a soup of wild onions and turnip tops ; this they 
ate without bread or salt, it could not therefore afford sufficient sus¬ 
tenance, either for young or old ; their food being so very light their 
strength daily wasted. 

Having left this place, they crossed the Genesee river on a raft of 
logs, bound together by hickory withes ; this appeared to be a dan¬ 
gerous method of ferrying them over such a river, to those who had 
been unaccustomed to such conveyances. They fixed their station 
near the Genesee banks, and procured more of the wild potatoe roots 
before mentioned, for their supper. 

On the following day one of the Indians left the company, taking 
with him the finest horse they had, and in some hours after returned 
with a large piece of meat, ordering the captives to boil it; this 
command they cheerfully performed, anxiously watching the kettle, 
fresh meat being a rarity which they had not for a long time enjoyed. 
The Indians, when it was sufficiently boiled, distributed to each one 
a piece, eating sparingly themselves. The prisoners made their 
repast without bread or salt, and ate with a good deal of relish what 
they supposed to be fresh beef, but afterwards understood it was 
horse flesh. 

A shrill halloo which they heard, gave the prisoners some uneasi¬ 
ness ; one of the Indians immediately rode to examine the cause, and 
found it was Captain Rowland Monteur, and his brother John’s 
wife, with some other Indians, who were seeking them with provi¬ 
sions. The remainder of the company soon reached them, and they 
divided some bread, which they had brought, into small pieces, 
according to the number of the company. 

The Captain and his company had brought with them cakes of 
hommony and Indian corn; of this they made a good meal. He 
appeared pleased to see the prisoners, having been absent from them 
several days, and ordered them all round to shake hands with him. 
From him they received information respecting Joseph Gilbert and 
Thomas Peart, who were separated from the others on the 4th 
of the month, and learned that they had arrived at the Indian set¬ 
tlements, some time before, in safety. 

The company staid the night at this place. One of the Indians 
refused to suffer any of them to come near his fire, or converse with 
the prisoner who, in the distribution, had fallen to him. 

Pounding hommony was the next day’s employment; the weather 
being warm, made it a hard task; they boiled and prepared it for 
supper, the Indians sitting down to eat first, and when they had 
concluded their meal, they wiped the spoon on the soal of their 
mockasons, and then gave it to the captives. 

Having resumed their journey, Elizabeth Gilbert, being obliged 
to ride alone, missed the path, for which the Indians repeatedly 
struck her. Their route still continued through rich meadows. 


222 


gilbert’s narrative 


After wandering for a time out of the direct path, the) 7- came to an 
Indian town, and obtained the necessary information to pursue their 
journey; the Indians ran out of their huts to see the prisoners, and 
to partake of the plunder, but no part of it suited them. Being 
directed to travel the path back again, for a short distance, they did 
so, and then struck into another, and went on until night, by which 
time they were very hungry, not having eaten since morning ; the 
kettle was again set on the fire for hommony, this being their 
only food. 

On the 21st of May the report of a morning-gun from Niagara, 
which they heard, contributed to raise their hopes—they rejoiced at 
being so near. An Indian was despatched, on horse back, to procure 
provisions from the fort. 

Elizabeth Gilbert could not walk as fast as the rest, she was 
therefore sent forward on foot, but was soon overtaken and left be¬ 
hind, the rest being obliged by the Indians to go on without regard¬ 
ing her. She would have been greatly perplexed, when she came 
to a division path, had not her husband lain a branch across the path 
which would have led her wrong—an affecting instance of both 
ingenuity and tenderness. She met several Indians, who passed by 
without speaking to her. 

An Indian belonging to the company, who was on the horse 
Elizabeth Gilbert had ridden, overtook her, and, as he went on 
slowly conversing with her, endeavored to alarm her, by saying that 
she would be left behind, and perish in the woods : yet, notwith¬ 
standing this, his heart was so softened before he had gone any great 
distance from her, that he alighted from the horse and left him, that 
she might be able to reach the rest of the company. The more 
seriously she considered this, the more it appeared to her to be a 
convincing instance of the overruling protection of Him, who can 
“ turn the heart of man as the husbandman turneth the water-course 
in his field.” 

As the Indians approached nearer their habitations, they fre¬ 
quently repeated their halloos, and after some time they received an 
answer in the same manner, which alarmed the company much ; 
but they soon discovered it to proceed from a party of whites and 
Indians, who were on some expedition, though their pretence was 
that they were for New York. Not long after parting with these, 
Rowland Monteur’s wife came to them ; she was daughter to Sian- 
gorochti, king of the Senecas, but her mother being a Cayuga, she 
was ranked among that nation, the children generally reckoning 
their descent from the mother’s side. This princess was attended 
by the Captain’s brother John, one other Indian, and a white prisoner 
who had been taken at Wyoming, by Rowland Monteur; she was 
dressed altogether in the Indian manner, shining with gold lace and 
silver baubles. They brought with them from the fort a supply of 
provisions. The Captain being at a distance behind, when his wife 
came the company waited for him. After the customary salutations, 
he addressed himself to his wile, telling her that Rebecca was her 


gilbert’s narrative. 


223 


daughter, and that she must not be induced, by any consideration, 
to part with her; whereupon she took a silver ring off her finger, 
and put it upon Rebecca’s, by which she was adopted as her 
daughter. 

They feasted upon the provisions that were brought, for they had 
been for several days before pinched with hunger, what sustenance 
they could procure not being sufficient to support nature. 

The next day the Indians proceeded on their journey, and contin¬ 
ued whooping in the most frightful manner. In this day’s route, 
they met another company of Indians, who compelled Benjamin 
Gilbert, the elder, to sit on the ground, when they put several ques¬ 
tions to him, to which he gave them the best answer he could; they 
then took his hat from him and went off. 

Going through a small town near Niagara, an Indian woman came 
out of one of the huts, and struck each of the captives a blow. Not 
long after their departure from this place, Jesse, Rebecca, and their 
mother, were detained until the others had got out of their sight, 
when the mother was ordered to push on ; and as she had to go by 
herself, she was much perplexed what course to take, as there was 
no path by which she could be directed. In this dilemma, she con¬ 
cluded to keep as straight forward as possible, and after some space 
of time, she had the satisfaction of overtaking the others. The pilot 
then made a short stay, that those who were behind might come up, 
and the Captain handed some rum round, giving each a dram, except 
the two old folks, whom they did not consider worthy of this notice. 
Here the Captain, who had the chief direction, painted Abner, Jesse, 
Rebecca and Elizabeth Gilbert, jun., and presented each with a belt 
of wampum, as a token of their being received into favor, although 
they took from them all their hats and bonnets, except Rebecca’s. 

The prisoners were released from the loads they had heretofore 
been compelled to carry, and had it not been for the treatment they 
expected on their approaching the Indian towns, and the hardship 
of a separation, their situation would'have been tolerable; but the 
horror of their minds, arising from the dreadful yells of the Indians, 
as they approached the hamlets, is easier conceived than described, 
for they were no strangers to the customary cruelty exercised upon 
captives on entering their towns. The Indians, men, women and 
children, collect together, bringing clubs and stones in order to beat 
them, which they usually do with great severity, by way of revenge 
for their relations who have been slain; this is performed immedi¬ 
ately upon their entering the village where the warriors reside. 
This treatment cannot be avoided, and the blows, however cruel, 
must be borne without complaint, and the prisoners are sorely bea¬ 
ten, until their enemies are wearied with the cruel sport. Their 
sufferings were in this case very great, they received several wounds, 
and two of the women who were on horse back, were much bruised 
by falling from their horses, which were frightened by the Indians. 
Elizabeth, the mother, took shelter by the side of one of them, but 
upon observing that she met with some favor upon his account, he 


224 


gilbert’s narrative. 


sent her away; she then received several violent blows, so that she 
was almost disabled. The blood trickled from their heads, in a 
stream, their hair being cropt close, and the clothes they had on, in 
rags, made their situation truly piteous. Whilst they were inflict¬ 
ing this revenge upon the captives, the king came, and put a stop to 
any further cruelty, by telling them “ It was sufficient,” which they 
immediately attended to. 

Benjamin Gilbert, and Elizabeth his wife, Jesse Gilbert, and his 
wife, were ordered to Captain Rowland Monteur’s house, the women 
belonging to it, were kind to them, and gave them something to eat: 
Sarah Gilbert, Jesse’s wife, was taken from them by three women, 
in order to be placed in the family she was to be adopted by. 

Two officers from Niagara Fort, Captains Dace, and Powel, came 
to see the prisoners, and prevent (as they were informed) any abuse 
that might be given them. Benjamin Gilbert informed these officers, 
that he was apprehensive they were in great danger of being murdered, 
upon which they promised him they would send a boat, the next day, 
to bring them to Niagara. 

Notwithstanding the kind intention of the officers, they did not 
derive the expected advantage from it, the next day, for the Indians 
insisted on their going to the Fort on foot, although the bruises they 
had received the day before, from the many severe blows given them, 
rendered their journey on foot very distressing ; but Capt. Monteur, 
obstinately persisting, they dared not long remonstrate, or refuse. 

When they left the Indian town, several issued from their huts 
after them with sticks in their hands, yelling and screeching in a 
most dismal manner ; but through the interposition of four Indian 
women, who had come with the captives, to prevent any further 
abuse they might receive, they were preserved. One of them walk¬ 
ing between Benjamin Gilbert and his wife, led them, and desired 
Jesse to keep as near them as he could, the other three walked 
behind, and prevailed wi'h the young Indians to desist. They had 
not pursued their route long, before they saw Capt. John Powel, 
who came from his boat, and persuaded (though with some difficulty) 
the Indians to get into it, with the captives, which relieved them 
from their apprehensions ol further danger. After reaching the Fort, 
Capt. Powel introduced them to Col. Guy Johnson, and Col. Butler, 
who asked the prisoners many questions, in the presence of the 
Indians. They presented the Captain with a belt of wampum, 
which is a constant practice among them, when they intend a ratifica¬ 
tion of the peace. Before their connexion with Europeans, these 
belts were made of shells, found on the coasts of New England and 
Virginia, which were sawed out into beads of an oblong shape, 
about a quarter of an inch long, which when strung together on 
leather strings, and these strings fastened with fine threads made of 
sinews, compose what is called a belt of wampum. But since the 
whites have gained footing among them, they make use of the 
common glass beads for this purpose. 

On the 25th of May, Benjamin Gilbert, his wife Elizabeth, and 


gilbert’s narrative. 


225 


their son Jesse, were surrendered to Col. Johnson, in whose family 
they received much kindness. The Colonel’s housekeeper was 
particularly attentive to them, not only inviting them to her house, 
where she gave the old folks her best room, but administering to 
their necessities and endeavouring to sooth their sorrows. 

A few days after they came to the Fort, they had information that 
Benjamin Peart was by the river side, with the Indians ; upon hear¬ 
ing this report, his mother went to see him, but every attempt to 
obtain his release was in vain, the Indians would by no means give 
him up. From this place they intended to march with their prison¬ 
ers, to the Genesee river, about an hundred miles distant. As the 
affectionate mother’s solicitations proved fruitless, her son not only 
felt the afflicting loss of his wife and child, from whom he had been 
torn some time before, but a renewal of his grief on this short sight of 
his parent. She procured him a hat, and also some salt, which was 
an acceptable burden for the journey. 

Benjamin Gilbert, conversing with the Indian Captain who made 
them captives, observed that he might say what none of the other 
Indians could, “ That he had brought in the oldest man, and the 
youngest child his reply to this was expressive ,' “ It was not I, 
but the great God who brought you through, for we were determined 
to kill you, but were prevented.” 

The British officers being informed that Jesse Gilbert’s wife was 
among the Indians, with great tenderness agreed to seek her out, and 
after a diligent enquiry, found that she was among the Delawares ; 
they went to them, and endeavoured to agree upon terms for her 
releasement; the Indians brought her to the Fort the next day, but 
would not give her up to her relations. 

Early next morning, Capt. Robeson generously undertook to 
procure her liberty, which, after much attention and solicitude, he, 
together with Lieutenant Ilillyard, happily accomplished. They 
made the Indians several small presents, and gave them thirty pounds 
as a ransom. 

When Sarah Gilbert had obtained her liberty, she altered her dress 
more in character for her sex, than she had been able to do whilst 
amongst the Indians, and went to her husband and parents at Col. 
Johnson’s, where she was joyfully received. 

Col. Johnson’s housekeeper continued her kind attentions to them, 
during their stay here,[and procured clothing for them from the king’s 
stores. 

About the first of June, the Senecas, among whom Elizabeth 
Peart was captive, brought her with them to the Fort; as soon as 
the mother heard of it, she went to her, and had some conversation 
with her, but could not learn where she was to be sent to ; she then 
enquired of the Interpreter, and pressed on his friendship, to learn 
what was to become of her daughter ; this request he complied with, 
and informed her that she was to be given away to another family of 
the Senecas, and adopted among them, in the place of a deceased 
relation. Capt. Powel interested himseli in her case likewise, and 


226 


gilbert’s narrative. 


offered to purchase her of them, but the Indians refused to give her 
up ; and as the mother and daughter expected they should see each 
other no more, their parting was very affecting. 

The Indian woman who had adopted Rebecca as her daughter, 
came also to the Fort, and Elizabeth Gilbert made use of this oppor¬ 
tunity to enquire concerning her daughter; the Interpreter informed 
her, there was no probability of obtaining the enlargement of her 
child, as the Indians would not part with her: All she could do, was, 
to recommend her to their notice, as very weakly, and of consequence 
not able to endure much fatigue. 

Not many days after their arrival at Niagara, a vessel came up 
Lake Ontario to the Fort, with orders for the prisoners to go to 
Montreal. In this vessel came one Capt. Brant, an Indian chief, 
high in rank amongst them. Elizabeth Gilbert immediately applied 
herself to solicit and interest him in behalf of her children who yet 
remained in captivity; he readily promised her to use his endeavours 
to procure their liberty. A short time before they sailed for Montreal, 
they received accounts of Abner and Elizabeth Gilbert the younger, 
but it was also understood that their possessors were not disposed to 
give them up. As the prospect of obtaining the release of their 
children was so very discouraging, it was no alleviation to their 
distress to be removed to Montreal, where, in all probability, they 
would seldom be able to gain any information respecting them ; on 
which account, they were very solicitous to stay at Niagara, but the 
Colonel said they could not remain there, unless the son would enter 
into the King’s service : this could not be consented to, therefore 
they chose to submit to every calamity which might be permitted to 
befal them, and confide in the great controller of events. 

After continuing ten days at Col. Johnson’s, they took boat and 
crossed the river Niagara, in order to go on board the vessel (which 
lay in Lake Ontario) for Montreal. 

The vessel sailed down the lake on the sixth day of the week, and 
on the first day following, being the fourth day of June, 1780, came 
to Carlton Island, where there were such a number of small boats, 
which brought provisions, that it had the appearance of a fleet. 
Benjamin Gilbert, and Jesse, went on shore to obtain leave from the 
commanding officer, to go to Montreal in the small boats, as the 
vessel they came in could proceed no further: They met with a 
kind reception and their requested was granted. 

The second day following, they left Carlton Island, which lies at 
the mouth of Lake Ontario, and took their passage in open boats 
dow n the river St. Laurence, and passed a number of small Islands. 
There is a rapid descent in the waters of this river, which appears 
dangerous to those unacquainted with these kind of falls. The 
Frenchmen who rowed the boats, kept them near the shore, and 
passed without much difficulty between the rocks. 

Benjamin Gilbert had been much indisposed before they left the 
Fort, and his disorder was increased by a rain which fell on their 
passage, as they were without any covering. They passed Oswa- 



gilbert’s narrative. 


227 


gotchy, an English garrison, by the side of the river, but they were 
not permitted to stop here ; they proceeded down the St. Laurence, 
and the rain continuing, went on shore on an island in order to secure 
themselves from the weather: Here they made a shelter for Benjamin 
Gilbert, and when ihe rain ceased, a place was prepared for him in the 
boat, that he might lie down with more ease. His bodily weakness 
made such rapid progress, that it rendered all the care and atten¬ 
tion of his wife necessary, and likewise called forth all her fortitude; 
she supported him in her arms, affording every possible relief to 
mitigate his extreme pains : And although in this distressed condi¬ 
tion, he, notwithstanding, gave a satisfactory evidence of the virtue 
and power of a patient and holy resignation, which can disarm the 
king of terrors, and receive him as a welcome messenger. Thus 
prepared, he passed from this state of probation, the eighth day of 
June, 1780, in the evening, leaving his wife and two children, who 
were with him, in all the anxiety of deep distress, although they had 
no doubt but that their loss was his everlasting gain. Being without 
a light in the boat, the darkness of the night added not a little to 
their melancholy situation. As there were not any others with 
Elizabeth Gilbert but her children, and the four Frenchmen who 
managed the boat, and her apprehensions alarming her lest they 
should throw the corpse overboard, as they appeared to be an unfeel¬ 
ing company, she therefore applied to some British officers who were 
in a boat behind them, who dispelled her fears, and received her 
under their protection. 

In the morning they passed the garrision of Coeur de Lac, and 
waited for some considerable time, a small distance below it. Squire 
Campbell, who had the charge of the prisoners, when he heard of 
Benjamin Gilbert’s decease, sent Jesse to the commandant of this 
garrison to get a coffin, in which they put the corpse, and very hastily 
interred him under an oak not far from the Fort. The boatmen 
would not allow his widow to pay the last tribute to his memory, 
but regardless of her affliction, refused to wait. 

The next day they arrived at Montreal, where they remained for 
more than a year, receiving much kindness both from the British 
officers and soldiers and a number of the inhabitants. Being placed 
upon the list of the king’s prisoners, daily rations were allowed them. 

During the time they remained here, they applied to Colonel 
Campbell for such assistance as he could render them in procuring 
the release of the other captives from the Indians. He took down 
a short account of their sufferings, and forwarded the narrative to 
General Huldimund at Quebec, desiring his attention to the sufferers. 
The General immediately issued orders that all the officers under 
his command should endeavor to procure the release of the prisoners, 
and that every garrison should furnish them with necessaries as they 
came down. Some time after this order, Mrs. Gilbert was one day 
at the house of a Mr. Scott in Montreal, when she was informed 
that some persons in an adjoining room were desirous of seeing her. 

20 


228 


Gilbert’s narrative. 


Her joy may be imagined when upon entering the apartment, th.- 1 
beheld six of her long lost children. 

A messenger was sent to inform Jesse and his wife, that Joseph 
Gilbert, Benjamin Peart, Elizabeth his wife, and young child, Abner 
and Elizabeth Gilbert, the younger, were with their mother. It 
must afford very pleasing reflections to any affectionate disposition, 
to dwell awhile on this scene, that after a captivity of upwards of 
fourteen months, so happy a meeting should take place. 

Thomas Peart, who had obtained his liberty, and tarried at Niagara, 
that he might be of service to the two yet remaining in captivity, viz. 
Benjamin Gilbert, jun. and Rebecca Gilbert. 

Abigail Dodson, the daughter of a neighbouring farmer, who was 
taken with them, having inadvertently informed the Indians she was 
not of the Gilbert family, all attempts for her liberty were fruitless. 

We shall now proceed to relate how Joseph Gilbert, the eldest 
son of the deceased, fared amongst the Indians : lie, with Thomas 
Peart, Benjamin Gilbert, jun., and Jesse Gilbert’s wife Sarah, v e 
taken along the westward path, as before related ; after some s! . t 
continuance in this path, Thomas Peart and Joseph Gilbert were 
taken from the other two, and by a different route through many 
difficulties, they were brought to Caracadera, where they received 
the insults of the women and children, whose husbands or paren s 
had fallen in their hostile excursions. 

Joseph Gilbert was separated from his companion, and removed 
to an Indian villa, called Nundow, about seven miles from Caraca¬ 
dera ; his residence was, for several weeks, in the king’s family, 
whose hamlet was superior to the other small huts. The king himself 
brought him some hommony, and treated him with great civility, 
intending his adoption into the family, in place of one of his sons, 
who was slain when General Sullivan drove them from their habita¬ 
tions. As Nundow was not to be the place of his abode, his quar rs 
were soon changed, and he was taken back to Caracadera : but ho 
weakness of body was so great, that he was two days accomplishing 
this journey, which was only seven miles, and not able to procure 
any other food than roots and herbs, the Indian economy leaving 
them without any provisions to subsist on. Here they adopted him 
into the family of one of the king’s sons, informing him, that if he 
would marry amongst them, he should enjoy the privileges which 
they enjoyed; but this proposal he was not disposed to comply 
with, and as he was not over anxious to conceal his dislike to them, 
the sufferings he underwent were not alleviated. The manner of 
his life differing so much from what he had before been accustomed 
to, having to eat the wild roots and herbs before mentioned, and as 
he had been lame from a child, and subject to frequent indisposi¬ 
tions, it was requisite for him to pay more attention to his w ’ 
habit of body, than his captors were willing he should. When the 
master of the family was at home, the respect he shewed to Joseph, 
and his kindness to him, rendered his situation more tolerahle than 
in his absence. Frequently suffering with hunger, the privilege of 


gilbert’s narrative. 


229 


a plenteous table appeared to him as an inestimable blessing, which 
claimed the warmest devotion of gratitude.—In such a distressed 
situation, the hours rolled over with a tediousness almost insupporta¬ 
ble, as he had no agreeable employ to relieve his mind from the 
rejections of his sorrowful captivity : This manner of life continued 
a 1 ut thro, : .onths, and when they could no longer procure a supply 
b> i-eir hunting, necessity compelled them to go to Niagra Fort for 
prov.'shin. The greater number of the Indians belonging to Caraca- 
dera a tended on this journey, in order to obtain a supply of 
p isions : their want of economy being so great, as to have 
c*- .sumed so early as the eighth month, all they had raised the last 
y’ tr, and the present crops were yet unfit to gather ; their profuse 
Manner of using their scant pittance of provision, generally introduc¬ 
ing a famine, after a short time of feasting. They compute the 
distance from Caracadera, to Niagara Fort, to be one hundred and 
thirty miles ; on this journey they were upwards of 5 days, taking 
some venison in their route, and feasting with great greediness, as 
they had been a long time without meat. 

When they reached the Fort, they procured clothing from the 
king’s stores for Joseph Gilbert, such as the Indians usually wear 
themselves, a match coat, leggings, &c. His indisposition confined 
I • t Colonel Johnson’s for several days, during which time the 
ush officers endeavoured to agree with the Indians for his release, 
fini. 'hey would not consent. The afflicting account of the death of 
1 ather, which was here communicated to him, spread an additional 
g join on his mind. After continuing at the Fort about four weeks, 
tue I bans ordered him back with them ; this was a sore stroke, to 
leave a degree of ease and plenty, and resume the hardships of an 
Indian life : With this uncomfortable prospect before him, added to 
his lameness, the journey was toilsome and painful. They were 
five days in their return, and when they arrived, their corn was ripe 
for use ; this, with the advantage of hunting, as the game was in its 
greatest perfection, furnished at present a comfortable subsistence. 

Joseph had permission to visit his fellow captive, Thomas Peart, 
who was at a small town of the Indians, about seven miles distance, 
called Nuudow, to whom he communicated the sorrowful intelli¬ 
gence of their mother’s widowed situation. 

At the first approach of spring, Joseph Gilbert and his adopted 
brother employed themselves in procuring rails, and repairing the 
fence about the lot of ground they intended to plant with corn ; as 
this part of preserving the grain was allotted to them, the planting 
and culture was assigned to the women, their husbandry being 
altogether performed with the hoe. 

The Indian manner of life was by no means agreeable to Joseph 
Gilbert: their irregularity in their meals was hard for him to bear; 
when they had provisions in plenty, they observed no plan of 
domestic economy, but indulged their voracious appetites, which 
ion consumed their stock, and a famine succeeded. 

In the early part of June, 1781, their corn was spent, and they 


230 


gilbert’s narrative. 


were obliged to have recourse again to the wild herbage and roots, 
and were so reduced for want of provision, that the Indians, having 
found the carcass of a dead horse, took the meat and roasted it. 

An officer from the Fort came down to enquire into the situation 
of the Indians, and upon observing the low condition Joseph was in, 
not being likely to continue long without some relief, which the 
officer privately afforded ; being permitted to frequent his house. 
He advised him to endeavour to escape from the Indians by flight, 
informing him that he had no other means of obtaining his release ; 
this confirmed him in a resolution he had previously formed, hut which 
his lameness and weak habit rendered it impracticable to execute at 
that time. 

Some time afterwards, however, embracing a favourable opportuni¬ 
ty, when the men were generally from home, some in their war 
expeditions, and some out hunting, he left them one night whilst 
the family slept, and made the best of his way towards Niagara Fort, 
following the path, as he had once before gone along it. Having a 
small piece of bread which he took from the hut, he made a hasty 
repast, travelling day and night, in order to escape from the further 
distresses of captivity. As he neither took any sleep, nor other food 
by the way than the piece of bread mentioned, for the two days and 
nights he pursued his journey, he was much fatigued when he 
reached the Fort. Upon his applying to Colonel Johnson, he was 
hospitably entertained, and the next day he saw three of the Indians 
whom he had left at the town when he had set off. 

After a few days stay here, as most of the family were discharged 
from captivity, and waiting for a passage to Montreal, a vessel was 
fitted to take them on board, in order to proceed down the lake. 

We come next to Benjamin Peart, who remained the first night 
after his arriving at the Indian huts, with his wife and child, but was 
separated from them the next day, and taken about a mile and a half, 
and presented to one of the families of the Seneca nation, and after¬ 
ward introduced to one of their chiefs, who made a long harangue 
which Benjamin did not understand. The Indians then gave him 
to a Squaw, in order to be received as her adopted child, who ordered 
him to a private hut, where the women wept over him in remem¬ 
brance of the relation in whose stead he was received. After this, 
he went with his mother (by adoption) to Niagara river, about two 
miles below the Great Falls, and staid here several days, then went to 
the Fort on their way to the Genesee river, where he had the 
pleasure of conversing with his mother, and receiving information 
concerning his wife and child ; but even this satisfaction was short 
lived, for he neither could obtain permission to visit his wife nor 
was he allowed to converse freely with his mother, as the Indians 
hurried him on board their bark canoes, where having placed their 
provisions, they proceeded with expedition down the lake to the 
mouth of the Genesee river. 

When the party arrived at the place of their designed settlement, 
they soon erected a small hut or wigwam, and the ground being rich 


Gilbert’s narrative. 


231 


and level, they began with their plantation of Indian corn. Two 
white men who had been taken prisoners, the one from Susquehanna, 
the other from Alinisinks, both in Pennsylvania, lived near this set¬ 
tlement, and were allowed by the Indians to use the horses and plant 
for themselves: these men lightened the toil of Benjamin Peart’s 
servitude, as he was frequently in their company, and he had the 
liberty of doing something for himself, though without much success. 

His new habitation, as it was not very healthy, introduced fresh 
difficuties, for he had not continued here long, before he was afflicted 
with sickness, which preyed upon him near three months, the 
Indians repeatedly endeavouring to relieve him by their knowledge 
in simples, but their endeavours proved ineffectual; the approach of 
the winter season afforded the relief sought for. Their provision 
was not very tempting to a weakly constitution, having nothing else 
than hommony, and but short allowance even of that, insomuch that 
when his appetite increased, he could not procure food sufficient to 
recruit his strength. The company of his brother, Thomas Peart, 
who visited him, was a great comfort, and as the town he lived at 
was but the distance of eighteen miles, they had frequent opportuni¬ 
ties of condoling with each other in their distress. 

The Indian men being absent on one of their war excursions, and 
the women employed in gathering the corn, left Benjamin Peart 
much leisure to reflect in solitude. 

Towards the beginning of the winter season the men returned, 
and built themselves a log house for a granary, and then removed 
about twenty miles from their settlement into the hunting country, 
and procured a great variety of game, which they usually eat without 
bread or salt. As he had been with the Indians for several months, 
their language became more familiar to him. 

Hunting and feasting after their manner being their only employ, 
they soon cleared the place where they settled of the game, which 
made a second removal necessary, and they are so accustomed to 
this wandering life, that it becomes their choice. 

They fixed up a long hut in this second hunting place, and con¬ 
tinued until February, when they returned to their first settlement, 
though their stay was but a few days, and then back again to their 
log hut. 

The whole family concluded upon a journey to Niagara Fort, by 
land, which was completed in seven days. At the Fort he had the 
satisfaction of conversing with his brother, Thomas Peart, and the 
same day his wife also came from Buffaloe Creek, with the Senecas 
to the Fort; this happy meeting, after an absence of ten months, 
drew tears of joy from them. He made an inquiry after his child, as 
he had neither heard from it nor the mother since their separation. 
The Indians not approving of their conversing much together, as 
they imagined they would remember their former situation, and be¬ 
come less contented with their present manner of life, they separated 
them again the same day, and took Benjamin’s wife about four miles 
distant; but the party with whom he came, permitted him to stay 
20 * 


232 


gilbert’s narrative. 


here several nights, and when the Indians had completed their traffic 
they returned, taking him some miles hack with them to one o! their 
towns; but his telling them he was desirous of returning to the Fort 
to procure something he had before lorgot, in order for his journey, 
he was permitted. As he staid the night, his adopted brother the 
Indian came for him, but upon his complaining that he was so lame 
as to prevent his travelling with them, they suffered him to remain 
behind. 

He continued at the Fort about two months before the Indians 
came back again, and as he laboured for the white people, he had an 
opportunity of procuring salt provision from the king’s stores, which 
had been for a long time a dainty to him. 

When one of the Indians (a second adopted brother) came for 
him, Benjamin went with him to Capt. Powel, who with earnest 
solicitations and some presents prevailed upon the Indian to sutler him 
to stay until he returned from his war expedition ; but this was the 
last he ever made, as he lost his life on the frontiers of New York. 

After this, another captain (a third adopted brother) came to the 
Fort, and when Benjamin Peart saw him, he applied to Adjutant 
General Wilkinson to intercede tor his release, who accordingly 
waited upon Col. Johnson and other officers, to prevail with them to 
exert themselves on his behalf; they concluded to hold a council 
with the Indians for this purpose, who after some deliberation surren¬ 
dered him up to Col. Johnson, for which he gave them a valuable 
compensation. 

Benjamin Peart after his release was employed in Col. Johnson’s 
service, and continued with him for several months. His child had 
been released for some time, and his wife, by earnest entreaty and 
plea of sickness, had prevailed with the Indians to permit her to stay 
at the Fort, which proved a great consolation and comfort after so 
long a separation. 

About the middle of August there was preparation made for their 
proceeding to Montreal, as by this time there were six of the prison¬ 
ers ready to go in a ship which lay in lake Ontario, whose names 
were Joseph Gilbert, Benjamin Peart, his wife and child, Abner 
Gilbert, and Elizabeth Gilbert the younger. These went on board 
the vessel and in eight days reached Montreal. As soon as possible 
after their arrival, they waited on their mother at Adam Scott’s, as 
has been already related. 

The situation of Elizabeth Peart, wife of Benjamin, and her child 
is next to be related. 

After she and the child were parted from her husband, Abigail 
Dodson and the child were taken several miles in the night to a little 
hut, where they staid till morning, and the day following were taken 
within eight miles of Niagara, where she w r as adopted into one of 
the families of Senecas ; the ceremony of adoption to her was 
tedious and distressing; they obliged her to sit down with a young 
man, an Indian, and the eldest chieftain of the family repeated a 
jargon of words, to her unintelligible, but which she considered as 


gilbert’s narrative. 


233 


some form amongst them of marriage, and this apprehension introduc¬ 
ed the most violent agitations, as she was determined, at all events, 
to oppose any step of this nature ; but after the old Indian concluded 
his speech, she was relieved from the dreadful embarrassment she 
had been under, as she was led away by another Indian. 

Abigail Dodson was given the same day to one of the families of 
the Cayuga nation, so that Elizabeth Peart saw her no more. 

The man who led Elizabeth from the company, took her into 
the family for whom they adopted her, and introduced her to her 
patents, brothers and sisters, in the Indian style, who received her 
very kindly, and made a grievous lamentation over her, according to 
custom. After she had been with them two days, the whole family 
left their habitation and went about two miles to Fort Slusher, where 
they staid several days: this Fort is about one mile above Niagara 
Falls. 

As she was much indisposed, the Indians were detained several 
days for her ; but as they cared little for her, she was obliged to lie 
on the damp ground, which prevented her speedy recovery. As soon 
as her disorder abated of its violence, they set off in a bark canoe for 
Bulfaloe Creek ; and as they went slowly, they had an opportunity 
of taking some fish. 

When they arrived at the place of their intended settlement, they 
went on shore and built a house. 

A few days after they came to this new settlement, they returned 
with Elizabeth to Fort Slusher, when she was told her child must be 
taken awav from her; this was truly afflicting, but all remonstrances 
were in vain. 

From Fort Slusher site travelled on foot, carrying her child to 
Niagara, it being eighteen miles and in sultry weather, which 
rendered it a painful addition to the thoughts of parting with her 
tender offspring. The intent of their journey was to obtain provi¬ 
sions, and their stay at the Fort was of several days continuance. 
Capt. Powel afforded her an asylum in his house. 

The Indians took the child from her and went with it across the 
river to adopt it into the family they had assigned for it, notwith¬ 
standing Captain Powell, at his wife’s request, interceded that it 
might not be removed from its mother; but as it was so young, 
they returned it to the mother after its adoption, until it should be 
convenient to send it to the family under whose protection it was to 
be placed. 

Obtaining the provision and other necessaries they came to Nia¬ 
gara to trade for, they returned to Fort Slusher on foot, from whence 
they embarked in their canoes. It being near the time of planting, 
they used much expedition in this journey. 

The labor and drudgery in a family falling to the share of the 
women, Elizabeth had to assist the squaw in preparing the ground 
and planting corn. 

Their provision being scant, they suffered much, and as their 
dependence for a sufficient supply until gathering their crop, was on 


234 


gilbert’s narrative. 


what they should receive from the fort, they were under the necessity 
of making a second journey thither. 

They were two days on the road at this time. A small distance 
before they came to the fort they took her child from her, and sent 
it to its destined family, and it was several months before she had 
an opportunity of seeing it again. After being taken from her hus¬ 
band, to lose her darling infant, was a severe stroke : she lamented 
her condition and wept sorely, for which one of the Indians inhu¬ 
manly struck her. Her Indian father seemed a little moved to 
behold her so distressed; and in order to console her, assured her 
they would bring it back again, but she saw it not until the spring 
following. 

After they had disposed of their peltries, they returned to their 
habitation by the same route which they had come. 

With a heart oppressed with sorrow. Elizabeth trod back her 
steps, mourning for her lost infant, for this idea presented itself con¬ 
tinually to her mind ; but as she experienced how fruitless, nay how 
dangerous, solicitations in behalf of her child were, she dried up her 
tears and pined in secret. 

Soon after they had reached their own habitation, Elizabeth Peart 
was again afflicted with sickness. At the first they shewed some 
attention to her complaints, but as she did not speedily recover so 
as to be able to work, they discontinued every attention, and built a 
small hut by the side of the corn field, placing her in it to mind the 
corn. In this lonely condition she saw a white man, who had been 
made prisoner among the Indians. He informed her that her child 
was released and with the white people. This information revived 
her drooping spirits, and a short time after she recovered of her in¬ 
disposition, but her employment still continued to be that of attend¬ 
ing the corn until it was ripe for gathering, which she assisted in. 
When the harvest was over, they permitted her to return and live 
with them. 

A time of plenty now commenced, and they lived as if they had 
sufficient to last the year through, faring plenteously every day. 

A drunken Indian came to the cabin one day, and the old Indian 
woman complaining to him of Elizabeth, his behaviour exceedingly 
terrified her ; he stormed like fury, and at length struck her a violent 
blow, which laid her on the ground ; he then began to pull her about 
and abuse her much, when another of the women interposed, and 
rescued her from further suffering. Such is the shocking effect of 
spirituous liquor on these people, it totally deprives them both of 
sense and humanity. 

A tedious winter prevented them from leaving their habitation, 
and deprived her of the pleasure of hearing often from her friends, 
who were very much scattered; but a prisoner, who had lately seen 
her husband, informed her of his being much indisposed at the Gen¬ 
esee river, which was upwards of one hundred miles distant. On 
receiving this intelligence, she stood in need of much consolation, 
but had no source of comfort except in her own bosom. 


gilbert’s narrative. 


235 


Near the return of spring, the provision failing, they were com¬ 
pelled to go off to the fort for a fresh supply, having but a small 
portion of corn, which they apportioned out once each day. 

Through snow and severe frost they set out for Niagara, suffering 
much from the excessive cold. And when they came within a few 
miles of the fort, which they were four days in accomplishing, they 
struck up a small wigwam for some of the family, with the priso¬ 
ners, to live in, until the return of the warriors from the fort. 

As soon as Capt. Powel’s wife heard that the young child’s mo¬ 
ther had come with the Indians, she desired to see her, claiming 
some relationship in the Indian way, as she had also been a prisoner 
amongst them. They granted her request, and Elizabeth was ac¬ 
cordingly introduced, and informed that her husband was returned 
to the fort, and there was some expectation of his release.—The 
same day Benjamin Peart came to see his wife, but he was not per¬ 
mitted to continue with her, as the Indians insisted on her going 
back with them to the cabin, which, as has been related, was some 
miles distant. 

Elizabeth Peart was not allowed for some days to go from the 
cabin, but a white family who had bought her child from the Indians 
to whom it had been presented, offered the party with whom Eliza¬ 
beth was confined a bottle of ruin if they would bring her across the 
river to her child, which they did, and delighted the fond mother 
with this happy meeting, as she had not seen it for the space of 
eight months. 

She was permitted to stay with the family where her child was 
for two days, when she returned with the Indians to their cabin. 
After some time she obtained a further permission to go to the fort, 
where she had some needle work from the white people, which 
afforded her a plea for often visiting it. At length Capt. Powel’s 
wife prevailed with them to suffer her to continue a few days at her 
house and work for her family, which was granted. At the expira¬ 
tion of the time, upon the coming of the Indians for her to return 
with them, she pleaded indisposition, and by this means they were 
repeatedly dissuaded from taking her with them. 

As the time of planting drew nigh, she made use of a little address 
to retard her departure; having a small swelling on her neck, she 
applied a pou'tice, which led the Indians into a belief that it was 
improper to remove her, and they consented to come again for her 
in two weeks. 

Her child was given up to her soon after her arrival at the fort, 
where she lodged at Capt. Powel’s, and her husband came frequently 
to visit her, which was a great satisfaction, as her trials in their 
separation had been many. 

At tfie time appointed some of the Indians came again, but she 
still pleaded indisposition, and had confined herself to her bed. One 
of the women interrogated her very closely, but did not insist upon 
her going back. Thus several months elapsed, she contriving de¬ 
lays as often as they came. 


236 


gilbert’s narrative 


When the vessel which was to take the other five, among whom 
were her husband and child, was ready to sail, the officers at Niag¬ 
ara concluded she might also go with them, as they saw no reasonable 
objection, and they doubted not but that it was in their power to 
satisfy those Indians who considered her as their property. 

Abner Gilbert, another of the captives, when tiie company had 
reached the Indian town within three miles of Niagara Fort, was, 
with Elizabeth Gilbert the younger, separated from the rest about 
the latter part of May, 1780, and were both adopted into John 
Hustoi^s family, who was of the Cayuga nation. After a stay of 
three days at or near the settlement of these Indians, they removed 
to a place near the Great Falls, which is about eighteen miles dis¬ 
tant from the fort, and loitered there three days more; they then 
crossed the river, and settled near its banks, clearing a piece of land 
and preparing it with the hoe for planting. Until they could gather 
their corn their dependence was entirely upon the fort. 

After the space of three weeks they packed upon their moveables, 
which they generally carry with them in their rambles, and went 
down ihe river to get provisions at Butlersbury, a small village built 
by Col. Butler, and is on the opposite side of the river to Niagara 
Fort. They staid one night at the village, observing great caution 
that none of the white people should converse with the prisoners. 
Next day, after transacting their business, they returned to their 
settlement, and continued there but about one week, when it was 
concluded they must go again for Butlersbury; after they had left 
their habitation a small distance, the head of the family met with his 
brother, and as they are very ceremonious in such interviews, the 
place of meeting was their rendezvous for that day and night. In 
the morning the family, with the brother before mentioned, pro¬ 
ceeded for Butlersbury, and reached it before night. They went to 
the house of an Englishman, one John Secord, who was styled 
brother to the chief of the family, having lived with him some time 
before. 

After some deliberation, it was agreed that Elizabeth Gilbert 
should continue in this family till sent for; this was an agreeable 
change to her. 

Abner returned with them to the settlement; his employ being to 
fence and secure the corn patch ; sometimes he had plenty of provi¬ 
sion but was often in want. 

The mistress of the family one day, intending to go to Butlersbury, 
ordered Abner to prepare to go with her; but she had not gone far 
before she sent him back. Notwithstanding he had long been 
inured to frequent disappointments, he was much mortified at 
returning, as he expected to have seen his sister. When the woman 
came home she gave him no information about her, and all inquiries 
on his part would have been fruitless. 

The place they had settled at served for a dwelling until fall, and 
as it was not very far distant from the fort, by often applying for 
provision, they were not so much distressed between the failing of 


Gilbert’s narrative. 


237 


their old crop and the gathering of the new one, as those who lived 
at a greater distance. 

In the fall, John Huston, the head of the ft'mily, went out hunting, 
and in his return caught cold from his careless manner of lying in 
the wet, and thereby lost the use of his limbs for a long time. On 
being informed of his situation, the family moved to the place where 
he was ; they fixed a shelter over him (as he was unable to move 
himself) and continued here about a month; but as it was remote 
from any settlement, and they had to go often to the fo&Jbr the 
necessaries of life, they concluded to return to their own haoltation. 
Abner, one Indian man, and some of the women, carried the cripple 
in a blanket about two miles; this was so hard a task that they 
agreed to put up a small house and wait for his recovery : but not 
long after they had an opportunity of conveying him on horse back 
to the landing, about nine miles above the fort. As this was their 
plantation, and the time of gathering their crops, they took in their 
corn, which, as has been before observed, is the business of the wo¬ 
men. Then they changed their quarters, carrying the lame Indian 
as before, in a blanket, down to the river side, when they went on 
board canoes, and crossed the river in order to get to their hunting- 
ground, where they usually spend the winter. 

Abner Gilbert lived a dronish, Indian life, idle and poor, having 
no other employment than gathering hickory-nuts; and although 
young, his situation was very irksome. 

As soon as the family came to the hunting-ground, they patched 
up a slight hut for their residence, and employed themselves in 
hunting. They took Abner along with them in one of their tours, 
but they were thpn unsuccessful, taking nothing but racoons and 
porcupines. 

The crops of Indian corn proving too scant a pittance for the 
winter, Abner, on this account, had some agreeable employ, which 
was to visit the fort, and procure a supply of provisions, which con¬ 
tinued to be his employment for the remainder of the season. 

In the spring, John Huston, the Indian who had been lame all 
winter, recovered, and unhappily had it in his power to obtain a 
supply of rum, which he frequently drank to excess ; and always 
when thus debauched was extravagantly morose, quarreling with the 
women who were in the family, and at length left them. Soon after 
his departure the family moved about forty miles, near Buffalo 
Creek, which empties its waters into Lake Erie. At this place 
Abner heard of his sister Rebecca Gilbert, who still remained in 
captivity not far from his new habitation. This was their summer 
residence, they therefore undertook to clear a piece of land, in which 
they put corn, pumpkins and squashes. 

Abner, having no useful employment, amused himself with catching 
fish in the lake, and furnished the family with frequent messes of 
various kinds, which they ate without bread or salt; for the distance 
of this settlement from the fort prevented them from obtaining pro¬ 
visions so frequently as necessary. Capt. John Towel and Thomas 


238 


gilbert’s narrative. 


Peart, (the latter had by this time obtained his release from the 
Indians,) and several others, came among the Indian settlements 
■with provision and hoes for them. The account of their coming 
soon spread amongst the Indians. The chiefs of every tribe came, 
bringing with them as many little sticks as there were persons in 
their tribe, to express the number, in order to obtain a just propor¬ 
tion ol the provision to be distributed. They are said to be unac¬ 
quainted with any other method of explaining numbers than by this 
simple mode. 

It was upwards of a year since Abner had been parted from his 
relations, and as he had not seen his brother Thomas Peart in that 
space ol time, this unexpected meeting gave him great joy, but it 
was of short duration, as they were forced to leave him behind. 
During the corn season he was employed in tending it, and not 
being of an impatient disposition, he bore his captivity without 
repining. 

In the month of July, 1781, the family went to Butlersbury, when 
Col. Butler treated with the woman who was the head of this family 
for the release of Abner, which at length she consented to, on receiving 
some presents, but said he must first return with her, and she would 
deliver him up in twenty days. Upon their return, she gave Abner 
the agreeable information that he was to be given up. This added 
a spur to his industry and made his labor light. 

Some days before the time agreed upon, they proceeded for But¬ 
lersbury, and went to John Secord’s, where his sister Elizabeth 
Gilbert had been from the time mentioned in the former part of this 
narrative. 

Abner was discharged by the Indians soon after his arrival at the 
English village, and John Secord permitted him to live in his family 
with his sister. With this family they continued two weeks, and 
as they were under the care of the English officers, they were per¬ 
mitted to draw clothing and provisions from the king’s stores. 

Afterwards, Benjamin Peart and his brother Thomas, who were 
both released, came over for the brother and sister at John Secord’s, 
and went with them to Capt. Powel’s, in order to be nearer to the 
vessel they were to go in to Montreal. 

The next of the family who comes within notice, is Elizabeth 
Gilbert, the sister. From the time of her being first introduced by 
the Indian into the family of John Secord, who was one in whom 
he placed great confidence, she was under the necessity of having 
new clothes, as those she had brought from home were much worn. 
Her situation in the family where she was placed was comfortable. 
After a few days residence with them she discovered where the 
young child was, that had some time before been taken from its mo¬ 
ther, Elizabeth Peart, as before mentioned ; and herself, together 
with John Secord’s wife, with whom she lived, and Capt. Fry’s 
wife, went to see it, in order to purchase it from the Indian woman 
who had it under her care; hut they could not then prevail with 
her, though some time after Capt. Fry’s wife purchased it for thir- 


gilbert’s narrative. 


239 


teen dollars. Whilst among the Indians it had been for a Iona- time 
indisposed, and in a lingering, distressing situation ; but under its 
present kind protectress, who treated the child as her own, it soon 
recruited. 

Elizabeth Gilbert, jun., lived very agreeably in John Secord’s 
family rather more than a year, and became so fondly attached to 
her benefactors, that she usually styled the mistress of the house 
her mamma. During her residence here, her brother Abner and 
Thomas Peart came several times to visit her. 

The afflicting loss of her father, to whom she was affectionately 
endeared, and the separation from her mother, whom she had no 
expectation of seeing again, was a severe trial, although moderated 
by the kind attentions shewn her by the family in which she 
lived. 

John Secord having some business at Niagara, took Betsy with 
him, where she had the satisfaction of seeing six of her relations 
who had been captives, but were most of them released. This 
happy meeting made the trip to the fort a very agreeable one. She 
staid with them all night, and then returned. 

Not long after this visit, Col. Butler and John Secord sent for the 
Indian who claimed Elizabeth as his property, and when he arrived 
they made overtures to purchase her, but he declared he would not 
sell his own flesh and blood ; for thus they style those whom they 
have adopted. They then had recourse to presents, which, over¬ 
coming his scruples, they obtained her discharge; after which she 
remained two weeks at Butlersbury, and then went to her mother 
at Montreal. 

Having given a brief relation of the release and meeting of such 
of the captives as had returned from among the Indians, excepting 
Thomas Peart, whose narrative is deferred, as he was exerting his 
endeavors for the benefit of his sister and cousin who still remained 
behind, it may not be improper to return to the mother, who, with 
several of her children, were at Montreal. 

Elizabeth Gilbert suffered no opportunity to pass her, of inqui¬ 
ring about her friends and relations in Pennsylvania, and had the 
satisfaction of being informed by one who came from the southward, 
that friends of Philadelphia had been very assiduous in their endea¬ 
vors to gain information where their family was, and had sent to the 
different meetings, desiring them to inform themselves of the situa¬ 
tion of the captured family, and, if in their power, afford them 
such relief as they might need. 

A person who came from Crown-Point, informed her that Benja¬ 
min Gilbert, a son of the deceased by his first wife, had come thither 
in order to be of what service he could to the family, and had de¬ 
sired him to make inquiry where they were, and in what situation, 
and send him the earliest information possible. 

The next agreeable intelligence she received from Niagara, by a 
young woman who came from thence, who informed her that her 
daughter Rebecca was given up to the English by the Indians. This 
21 


240 


gilbert’s narrative. 


information must have been very pleasing, as their expectations of 
her release were but faint; the Indian with whom she lived consid¬ 
ering her as her own child. 

It was not long after this, that Thomas Peart, Rebecca Gilbert, 
and their cousin Benjamin Gilbert, came to Montreal to the rest of 
the family. This meeting, after such scenes of sorrow as they had 
experienced, was more completely happy than can be expressed. 

Rebecca Gilbert and Benjamin Gilbert, jr., were separated from 
their friends and connexions at a place called the Five Mile Mea¬ 
dows, which was said to be that distance from Niagara. The Seneca 
king’s daughter, to whom they were allotted in the distribution of 
the captives, took them to a small hut where her father, Siango- 
rochti, his queen, and the rest of the family were, eleven in number. 
Upon the reception of the prisoners into the family, there was much 
sorrow and weeping, as is customary on such occasions, and the 
higher in favor the adopted prisoners are to be placed, the greater 
lamentation is made over them. 

After three days the family removed to a place called the Land¬ 
ing, on the banks of Niagara river. Here they continued two days 
more, and then two of the women went with the captives to Niagara, 
to procure clothing from the king’s stores for them, and permitted 
them to ride on horseback to Fort Slusher, which is about eighteen 
miles distant from Niagara Fort. On this journey they had a sight 
of the great Falls of Niagara. 

During a stay of six days at Fort Slusher, the British officers and 
others used their utmost endeavors to purchase them of the Indians ; 
but the Indian king said he would not part with them for one thou¬ 
sand dollars. 

The Indians who claimed Elizabeth Peart, came to the fort with 
her at this time, and although she was very weakly and indisposed, 
it was an agreeable opportunity to them both, of conversing with 
each other, but they were not allowed to be frequently together, lest 
they should increase each other’s discontent. 

Rebecca being dressed in the Indian manner, appeared very differ¬ 
ent from what she had been accustomed to ; short clothes, leggings, 
and a gold laced hat. 

From Niagara Fort they went about eighteen miles above the 
Falls to Fort Erie, a garrison of the English, and then continued 
their journey about four miles further, up Buffalo creek, and pitched 
their tent. At this place they met with Rebecca’s father and mother 
by adoption, who had gone before on horseback. They caught 
some fish and made soup of them, but Rebecca could eat none of it, 
as it was dressed without salt, and with all the carelessness of 
Indians. 

This spot was intended for their plantation, they therefore began 
to clear the land for the crop of Indian corn. While the women 
were thus employed, the men built a log house for their residence, 
and then went out a hunting. 

Notwithstanding the family they lived with was of the first rank 


gilbert’s narrative. 


241 


among the Indians, and the head of it styled king, they were under 
the necessity of laboring as well as those of lower rank, although 
they often had advantages of procuring more provisions than the 
rest. This family raised this summer about seventy-five bushels of 
Indian corn. 

As Rebecca was not able to pursue a course of equal labor with 
the other women, she was favored by them by often being sent into 
their hut to prepare something to eat; and as she dressed their pro¬ 
visions after the English method, and had erected an oven by the 
assistance of the other women, in which they baked their bread, 
their family fared more agreeably than the others. 

Benjamin Gilbert, jr., who was only eleven years of age when he 
was captured, was considered as the king’s successor, and entirely 
freed from restraint, so that he even began to be delighted with his 
manner ol life; and had it not been for the frequent counsel of his 
fellow captive, he would not have been anxious for a chang3. 

In the waters of the Lakes there are various kinds of fish, which 
the Indians take sometimes with spears; but whenever they can 
obtain hooks and lines they prefer them. 

A fish called Ozoondah, resembling a shad in shape, but rather 
thicker and less bony, with which Lake Erie abounded, were often 
dressed for their table, and were of an agreeable taste, weighing from 
three to four pounds. 

They drew provisions this summer from the forts, which fre¬ 
quently induced the Indians to repair thither. The king, his daugh¬ 
ter, grand-daughter, and Rebecca, went together upon one of these 
visits to Fort Erie, where the British officers entertained them with 
a rich feast, and so great a prolusion of wine, that the Indian king 
got very drunk ; and as he had to manage the canoe on their return, 
they were repeatedly in danger of being overset amongst the rocks 
in the Lake. 

Rebecca and Benjamin met with much better fare than the other 
captives, as the family they lived with were but seldom in great 
want of necessaries, which was the only advantage they enjoyed 
beyond the rest of their tribe. 

Benjamin Gilbert, as a badge of his dignity, wore a silver medal 
pendant from his neck. 

The king, queen, and another of the family, together with Re¬ 
becca and her cousin Benjamin, set off for Niagara, going as far as 
Fort Slusher by water, from whence they proceeded on foot, carry¬ 
ing their loads on their backs. Their business at the fort was to 
obtain provisions, which occasioned them frequently to visit it, as 
before related. 

Rebecca indulged herself with the pleasing expectation of obtain¬ 
ing her release, or at least permission to remain behind among the 
whites ; but in both these expectations she was disagreeably disap¬ 
pointed, having to return again with her captors; all efforts for her 
release being in vain. Col, Johnson’s housekeeper, whose repeated 


242 


gilbert’s narrative. 


acts of kindness to this captured family have been noticed, made 
her some acceptable presents. 

As they had procured some rum to carry home with them, the 
chief was frequently intoxicated, and always in such unhappy fits 
behaved remarkably foolish. 

On their return, Thomas Peart, who was at Fort Niagara, pro¬ 
cured for Rebecca an horse to carry her as far as Fort Slusher, 
where they took boat and got home after a stay of nine days. 

Soon after their return, Rebecca and her cousin were seized with 
the chill and fever, which held them for near three months. During 
their indisposition the Indians were very kind to them; and as their 
strength of constitution alone, could not check the progress of the 
disorder, the Indians procured some herbs, with which the patients 
were unacquainted, and made a plentiful decoction ; with this they 
washed them, and it seemed to afford them some relief. The In¬ 
dians accounted it a sovereign remedy. 

The decease of her father, of which Rebecca received an account, 
continued her in a drooping way a considerable time longer than she 
would otherwise have been. 

As soon as she recovered her health, some of the family again 
went to Niagara, and Rebecca was permitted to be of the company. 
They staid at the fort about two weeks, and Col. Johnson exerted 
himself in order to obtain her release, holding a treaty with the 
Indians for this purpose; but his mediation proved fruitless : she 
had therefore to return with many a heavy step. When they came 
to Lake Erie, where their canoe was, they proceeded by water. 
While in their boat, a number of Indians, in another, came towards 
them, and informed them of the death of her Indian father, who had 
made an expedition to the frontiers of Pennsylvania, and was there 
wounded by the militia, and afterwards died of his wounds ; on 
which occasion she was under the necessity of making a feint of 
sorrow, and weeping aloud with the rest. 

When they arrived at their settlement, it was the time of gather¬ 
ing their crop of corn, potatoes, and pumpkins, and preserving their 
store of hickory-nuts. 

About the beginning of the winter some British officers came 
amongst them, and staid with them until spring, using every 
endeavor to obtain the discharge of the two ceptives, but without 
success. 

Some time after this, another British officer, attended by Thomas 
Peart, came with provision and hoes for the Indians. It afforded 
them great happiness to enjoy the satisfaction of each other’s con¬ 
versation, after so long an absence. 

Rebecca and her cousin had the additional pleasure of seeing her 
brother Abner, who came with the family amongst whom he lived, 
to settle near this place; and as they had not seen each other for 
almost twelve months, it proved very agreeable. 

Thomas Peart endeavored to animate his sister, by encouraging 


gilbert’s narrative. 


243 


her with the hopes of speedily obtaining her liberty : butcher hopes 
were often disappointed. 

An officer amongst the British, one Captain Latteridge, came and 
staid some time with them, and interested himself on behalf of the 
prisoners, and appeared in a lair way of obtaining their enlargement; 
but being ordered to attend his regiment, he was prevented from fur¬ 
ther attention until his return from duty ; and afterwards was com¬ 
manded by Col. Johnson to go with him to Montreal on business of 
importance, which effectually barred his undertaking any thing 
further that winter. 

It afforded her many pleasing reflections when she heard that six 
of her relatives were freed from their difficulties, and Thomas Peart 
visiting her again, contributed, in some measure, to reanimate her 
with fresh hopes of obtaining her own freedom. They fixed upon 
a scheme of carrying her off privately ; but when they gave time 
for a full reflection, it was evidently attended with too great danger, 
as it would undoubtedly have much enraged the Indians, and per¬ 
haps the life of every one concerned would have been forfeited by 
such indiscretion. 

During the course of this winter she suffered many hardships and 
severe disappointments, and being without a friend to unbosom her 
sorrows to, they appeared to increase by concealment; but making 
a virtue of necessity, she summoned up a firmness of resolution, 
and was supported under her discouragement beyond her own 
expectations. 

The youth and inexperience of her cousin did not allow a suffi¬ 
cient confidence in him, but she had often to interest herself in an 
attention to, and oversight of, his conduct; and it was in some mea¬ 
sure owing to this care, that he retained his desire to return amongst 
his friends. 

Col. Butler sent a string of wampum to the Indian chief, who 
immediately called a number of the other Indians together upon this 
occasion, when they concluded to go down to Niagara, where they 
understood the design of the treaty was for the freedom of the 
remainder of the prisoners ; for especial orders were issued by Gen. 
Haldimand, at Quebec, that their liberty should be obtained. At 
this council fire it was agreed they would surrender up the prisoners. 

When they returned, they informed Rebecca that Col. Butler had 
a desire to see her, which was the only information she could gain; 
this being a frequent custom amongst them to offer a very slight 
surmise of their intentions. 

After this the whole family moved about six miles up Lake Erie, 
where they staid about two months to gather their annual store of 
maple sugar, of which they made a considerable quantity. 

As soon as the season for this business was over, they returned 
to their old settlement, where they had not continued long, before an 
Indian came with an account that an astonishing number ot young 
pigeons might be procured at a certain place, by falling trees that 
were filled with nests of young, and the distance was computed to 
31 * 


244 


gilbert’s narrative. 


be about fifty miles : this information delighted the several tribes ; 
they speedily joined together, young and old, from different parts, and 
with great assiduity pursued their expedition, and took abundance of 
the young ones, which they dried in the sun and with smoke, and filled 
several bags which they had taken with them for this purpose. Benja¬ 
min Gilbert was permitted to accompany them in this excursion, 
which must have been a curious one for whole tribes to be engaged 
in. On this rarity they lived with extravagance for some time, faring 
sumptuously every day. 

As the time approached when, according to appointment, they 
were to return to Niagara and deliver up the prisoners, they gave 
Rebecca the agreeable information, in order to allow her some time 
to make preperation. She made them bread for their journey with 
great cheerfulness. 

The Indians, to the number of thirty, attended on this occasion, 
with the two captives. They went as far as Fort Slusher in a bark 
canoe. It was several days before they reached Niagara Fort, as 
they went slowly on foot. After attending at Col. Butler’s, and 
confering upon this occasion, in consideration of some valuable pre¬ 
sents made them, they released the two last of the captives, Rebecca 
Gilbert and Benjamin Gilbert, jr. 

As speedily as they were enabled, their Indian dress was ex¬ 
changed for the more customary and agreeable one of the Euro¬ 
peans ; and on the third of June, 1782, two days after their happy 
release, sailed for Montreal. 

The narrative of the treatment of Thomas Peart, another of the 
family, still remains to be given. 

He was taken along the westward path with the prisoners before 
mentioned, viz : Joseph, Sarah, and Benjamin Gilbert, jr. 

Thomas was compelled to carry a heavy load of the plunder 
which the Indians had seized at their farm. When separated from 
the rest, they were assured they should meet together again in 
four days. 

The first day’s travel was in an exceedingly disagreeable path, across 
several deep brooks, through which Thomas had to carry Sarah and 
Benjamin Gilbert, jun. This task was a very hard one, as he had 
been much reduced for want of sufficient nourishment. 

The first night they lodged by the banks ol Cayuga Creek, the 
captives being tied as usual. The next morning they took a veni¬ 
son, and this, with some decayed corn which they gathered from the 
deserted fields, served them for sustenance. This day’s journey 
was by the side of Cayuga Creek, until they came to a steep hill, 
which they ascended with difficulty. 

When night came on, they sought a wigwam which had been 
deserted precipitately on General Sullivan’s march against the in¬ 
habitants of these parts. 

The land in this neighbourhood is excellent for cultivation, afford¬ 
ing very good pasture. 

Thomas Peart assured the Indians, that he, with the other captives, 
would not leave them, and therefore requested the favour to be freed 


gilbert’s narrative. 


245 


from their confinement at night; but one of them checked his 
request, by saying he could not sleep if the captives were suffered 
to be untied. 

Their meal being all exhausted, Thomas and three Indians went 
near three miles to gather more decayed corn ; and this, mouldy as 
it was, they were obliged to eat, it being their only food, excepting 
a few winter turnips which they met with. They went forward a 
considerable distance by the side of Cayuga Creek, and then with 
much difficulty crossed it; immediately afterwards they ascended an 
uncommonly miry hill, covered with springs. Going over this mount¬ 
ain they missed the path, and were obliged to wade very heavily 
through the water and mire. 

In the close of the day they came to a fine meadow, where they 
agreed to continue that night, having no other provisions than 
mouldy Indian corn they accidentally met with in the Indian planta¬ 
tions, which had been cut down and left on the ground by General 
Sullivan’s army. 

Next morning they set forward, walking leisurely on, so that the 
company who went by the other path might overtake them, and 
frequently stopped for them. 

When night approached, they came to a large creek where some 
Indians were, who had begun to prepare the ground for planting 
corn. At this place they staid two nights, and being too indolent to 
procure game by hunting, their diet was still very poor, and their 
strength much exhausted, so that they became impatient of waiting 
for the others, which was their intention when they first stopped. 

After travelling till near noon, they made a short stay, stripping 
the bark off a tree, and then painted, in their Indian manner, them¬ 
selves and the prisoners on the body of the tree ; this done, they 
set up a stick with a split at the top, in which they placed a small 
bush of leaves, and leaned the stick so that the shadow of the leaves 
should fall to the point of the stick where it was fixed in the ground; 
by which means the others would be directed in the time of day 
when they left the place. 

Here they separated the prisoners again, those to whom Thomas 
Peart and Joseph Gilbert were alloted went westward out of the 
path, but Sarah Gilbert and Benjamin Gilbert, jr., with one Indian, 
continued in the path. This was very distressing to Sarah, to be 
torn from her relations and deprived of all the comforts and even 
necessaries of life. These two, with the Indian who had the care 
of them, after they had parted with the other two and travelled for¬ 
ward a few miles, came to some Indians by the side of a creek, who 
gave them something to eat. The next day the Indian who was 
their pilot exerted himself to obtain some provisions, but his endeav¬ 
ours proved fruitless, they therefore suffered greatly. At night ihe 
Indian asked Sarah if she had ever eaten horse-flesh, or dogs ; she 
replied, she had not; he then further surprised her by asking 
Whether she had ever eat any man’s flesh ; upon her expressing her 
abhorrence, he replied that he should be under the necessity of killing 


246 


gilbert’s narrative. 


the boy, for he could not procure any deer. This threat, although 
perhaps not intended to be executed, terrified her exceedingly. He 
hunted with great diligence, leaving the captives by themselves, and 
appeared to shudder himself at what he had threatened, willing to 
try every resource; but notwithstanding his exertions, her fears 
prevailed in a very great degree. They went forward slowly, being 
very weak, and in addition to their distress there fell a very heavy 
rain, and they were obliged to continue in it as they were without 
shelter. In this reduced situation they at length came to one of the 
huts at Canodosago, where they dressed the remains of their mouldy 
corn, and the day after were joined by the part of the company 
whom they had left ten days before. 

As the few days solitary sufferings of Sarah Gilbert had been 
before unrelated, the foregoing digression, from the narrative of 
Thomas Peart’s may not be thought improper. 

We return to the two who were separated from the path, and had 
to go forward across mountains and vallies, swamps and creeks. 

In the morning they ate the remainder of their corn. The Indians 
then cut off their hair, excepting a small round tuft on the crown 
of the head ; and, after painting them in the Indian manner, in order 
to make them appear more terrible, they took from them their hats. 
Being thus obliged to travel bare-headed in the sun, they were seized 
with violent head-aches ; and this added to a want of provisions, was 
truly distressing. 

When they approached the Indian settlements, the Indians began 
their customary whooping, to announce their arrival with prisoners, 
issuing their dismal yells according to the number brought in. 

After some short time an Indian came to them ; with him they 
held a discourse concerning the prisoners, and painted them afresh, 
part black, and part red, as a distinguishing mark. When this 
ceremony was concluded, the Indian who met them returned, and 
the others continued their route. 

As they were not far from the Indian towns, they soon saw great 
numbers of the Indians collecting together, though the prisoners 
were ignorant of their motives; 

When they came up to this disagreeable company, the Indian who 
first met them, took the string that was about Thomas Peart’s neck 
with which he had been tied at night, and held him whilst a squaw 
stripped off his vest. 

Joseph Gilbert was ordered to run first, but being lame and indis¬ 
posed, could only walk. The clubs and tomahawks flew so thick, 
that he was sorely bruised, and one of the tomahawks struck him on 
the head and brought him to the ground, when a lad of about fifteen 
years old run after him, and, as he lay, would undoubtedly have 
ended him, as he had lifted the tomahawk for that purpose* but the 
king’s son sent orders not to kill him. 

After him, Thomas Peart was set off; he seeing the horrid situa¬ 
tion of his brother, was so terrified, that he did not recollect the 
Indian still kept hold of the string which was round his neck ; but, 


gilbert’s narrative. 


247 


springing forward with great force and swiftness, he pulled the 
Indian over, who, in return, when he recovered his feet, beat him 
severely with a club. The lad who was standing with a tomahawk 
near Joseph Gilbert, as he passed by him, threw his tomahawk with 
great dexterity, and would certainly have struck him, if he had not 
sprung forwards and avoided the weapon. When he had got oppo¬ 
site to one of their huts, they pointed for him to take shelter there, 
where Joseph Gilbert came to him as soon as he recovered. In the 
room were a number of women who appeared very sorrowful, and 
wept aloud ; this, though customary amongst them, still added to the 
terror of the captives, as they imagined it to be no other than a prelude 
to inevitable destruction. 

Their hair cropt close, their bodies bruised, and the blood gushing 
from Joseph Gilbert’s wound, rendered them a horrid spectacle to 
each other. 

After the lamentations ceased, one of them asked Thomas Peart, 
if he was hungry ; he replied he was ; they then told him, “ you 
eat by and by.” They immediately procured some victuals, and set 
it before them, but Joseph Gilbert’s wounds had taken away his 
appetite. 

An officer, who was of the French families of Canada, came to 
them, and brought a negro with him to interpret. After questioning 
them, he concluded to write to Col. Johnson, at Niagara, relative to 
the prisoners. 

The Indians advised them to be contented with their present 
situation, and marry amongst them, giving every assurance that they 
should be treated with the utmost respect; but these conditions 
were inadmissable. 

After this, Joseph Gilbert was taken from his brother, as related 
in the narrative of his sufferings. 

Thomas Peart continued at the village that night, and the next 
day was given to the care of a young Indian, who went with him 
about two miles, where several Indians were collected, dressed in 
horrid masks, in order, as he supposed, to make sport of his fears, 
if he discovered any ; he therefore guarded against being surprised, 
and when they observed him not to be intimidated, they permitted 
him to return again. Not long after his arrival at the village, Capt. 
Rowland Monteur came in, who gave Thomas Peart some account 
how the others of the family had suffered, and told him that he had 
almost killed his mother and Jesse, on account of Andrew Ilarrigar’s 
making his escape. He had come in before the others, in order to 
procure some provisions for the company, who were in great need 
of them. 

When the Captain returned, Thomas Peart acompanied him part 
of the way, and the Captain advised him to be cheerful and contented, 
and work faithful for the friend, for so he styled the Indian under 
whose care Thomas Peart was placed, promising him that if he 
complied, he should shortlj go to Niagara. 

They employed him in chopping for several days, having previous 


248 


gilbert’s narrative 


to this taken the string from his neck, which they had carefully 
secured him with every night. 

The plantation on which they intended to fix for a summer resi¬ 
dence, and to plant their crop, of corn, was several miles down the 
Genesee or Little river. Prior to their removing with the family, 
some of the men went thither and built a bark hut, which was 
expeditiously performed, as they executed it in about two days, 
when they returned to their old habitation. 

Thomas Peart was the next day given to the chief Indian, who 
endeavoured to quiet his apprehensions, assuring him he should 
meet with kind treatment. 

The Indian manner of life is remarkably dirty and lousy ; and 
although they themselves disregard their filth, yet it was extremely 
mortifying to the prisoners to be deprived of the advantages of 
cleanliness : and this was by no means among the number of smaller 
difficulties. 

As Thomas Peart had been accustomed to industry, and when 
first among the Indians was constantly exerting himself, either in 
their active diversions or useful labours, they were much delighted 
with him. When they had concluded upon sending him to the 
family he was to reside with, they daubed him afresh with their red 
paint. He was then taken about seven miles, where he was adopted 
into the family and styled “ Ochnusa,” or Uncle. When the 
ceremony of adoption was performed, a number of the relatives were 
summoned together, and the head of them took Thomas Peart into 
the midst of the assembly, and made a long harangue in the Indian 
language. After this he was taken into the house, where the women 
wept aloud for joy, that the place of a deceased relation was again 
supplied. 

The old man, whose place Thomas Peart was to fill, had never 
been considered by his family as possessed of any merit; and strange 
as it may appear, the person adopted, always holds in their estima¬ 
tion the merits or demerits of the deceased, and the most careful 
conduct can never overcome this prejudice. 

As soon as the ceremony of adoption at this place was finished, 
he was taken by the family to Nundow, a town on the Genesee 
river. The head of this family was chief or king of the Senecas. 
But before Thomas was fully received into the family, there was a 
second lamentation. 

Their provision, notwithstanding it was a season of great plenty, 
was often deer’s entrails dried with their contents and all boiled 
together, which they consider strong and wholesome food. They 
never throw away any part of the game they take. 

Thomas Peart’s dress was entirely in the Indian style, painted 
and ornamented like one of themselves, though in a meaner manner, 
as they did not hold him high in estimation after his adoption. 

Greatly discontented, he often retired into the woods, and reflected 
upon his unhappy situation, without hopes of returning to his rela¬ 
tions, or ever being rescued from captivity. 


gilbert’s narrative. 


249 


He continued in this solitary seclusion about five weeks, when 
their corn was mostly consumed ; and as their dependence for a 
fresh supply was on Niagara Fort, they concluded to go thither, but 
at first they would not consent that Thomas should accompany 
them ; but he was so urgent, they at length consented, and the next 
day they had an Indian dance preparatory to their expedition. 

In the route Thomas Peart caught a deer, which was an acceptable 
acquisition, as they had been for some days without any meat, and 
their corn was likewise expended. 

When they came within two miles of the Fort they halted, and 
staid there until morning. 

A white prisoner, who came from the Fort, gave Thomas Peart 
a particular relation of his fellow captives : this was the first account 
he had of them since their separation at the Indian towns. As soon 
as he came to the Fort, he applied to some of the officers, requesting 
their exertions to procure Thomas’s liberty, if possible ; but he was 
disappointed, as nothing could be then done to serve him. 

He ate some salt provisions, which as he had tasted but little salt 
since his captivity, (although pleasing to his palate) affected his 
stomach, it being difficult for hmi to digest. 

As he was to return with the Indians in about a week, it was very 
distressing, being much disgusted with the fare he met among them. 

They returned by way of Fort Slusher, and then along Lake 
Erie, up Buffalo Creek, taking some fish as they went. They 
passed by the place where Elizabeth Peart and Rebecca Gilbert 
were, but he had not an opportunity of seeing them. 

The stores they took home with them, consisted of rum, salt, and 
ammunition. 

When they had consumed their last year’s stock of com, they 
lived very low, and were reduced to great necessity, digging what 
wild esculent roots they could find ; this was so diflerent from what 
he had been accustomed to, that he could not bear it with that cheer¬ 
fulness with which the Indians met such difficulties. His painful 
reflections, and the want of necessaries, reduced him exceedingly low. 

Whilst in this distress, he happily obtained the use of a testament 
from a white woman, who had been taken captive, and afterwards 
married amongst them. With this solacing companion, he frequently 
retired into the woods, and employed himself in reading and medita¬ 
ting upon the instruction contained in it. 

The Indians directed a white girl to inform him, that they intended 
a hunt of twenty days, and were desirious he should attend them ; 
to this he agreed, and the whole family accompanied the hunters. 
They passed by the town where Joseph Gilbert was, who informed 
his brother that he was going to Niagara ; Thomas Peart replied he 
had already been there, and then informed him how the others of 
their relations were dispersed. 

On their way up the Genesee river, where they intended to hunt, 
they took a deer. 

The fourth day, as Thomas Peart was beating for game, he lost 


250 


gilbert’s narrative. 


his company ; but at length came to some Indians who directed him. 
When he came to the family, much fatigued, and told them he had 
been lost, they were very much delighted at the perplexing situation 
he had been in. 

The next day they moved further, hunting as they went, and in 
the evening fixed their quarters, where they staid two nights. 

Thomas Peart, not endeavouring to please them, they took umbrage 
at his neglect. This, added to a fit of the ague, induced them to 
leave him in the woods, he being so weak he could not keep up 
with them, and was obliged to follow by their tracks in the leaves. 

Their provision soon began to waste, and it was not long before 
it was entirely consumed; and as they took no game, they were 
under the necessity of eating wild cherries. 

The prospect appeared very gloomy to our captive, to be thus 
distressed with hunger, and to be from home near one hundred miles 
with the whole family. But this situation, though so alarming to 
him, did not appear to reach their Stoic insensibility. In this 
extremity one of the Indians killed a fine elk, which was a long 
wished for and delightful supply ; but as the weather was very 
warm, and they had no salt, it soon became putrid, and filled with 
maggots, which they, notwithstanding, eat without reserve. 

After they had been out upwards of thirty days, the Indians 
changed their course, towards their own habitation, making but little 
progress forwards, as they kept hunting as they went. And as 
Thomas had long been uneasy, and desirous to return, not expecting 
to have been absent more than twenty days, they gave him some 
directions and a small share of provision ; he then left them after an 
unsuccessful hunt of forty days. And althogh weak and unfit for 
the journey, he set off in the morning, and kept as near a north west 
course as he could, going as fast as his strength would permit over 
large creeks, swamps and rugged hills ; and when night came on, 
made up a small fire, and being exceedingly fatigued, laid himself 
down on the ground, and slept very soundly. In the morning he 
continued his journey. 

When he considered the great distance through the woods to the 
Indian towns, and the difficulty of procuring game to subsist on, it 
dejected him greatly. His spirits were so depressed, that when his 
fire was extinguished in the night, he even heard the wild beasts 
walking and howling around him, without regarding them, as with 
all his exertions and assiduity, he had but small hope of ever reach¬ 
ing the towns, but providentially he succeeded. 

On the journey he ate a land tortoise, some roots and wild cherries. 
When he reached the town, the Indians, were pleased with his 
return, and inquired the reason of his coming alone, and where he 
had left the family he went with ; which he fully informed them of. 

This being the time for feasting on their new crop of corn, and 
they having plenty of pumpkins and squashes, gave an agreeable 
prospect of a short season of health, and frequent, though simple, 
feasts. 


gilbert’s narrative. 


251 


About ten days after this, the family returned ; they soon inquired 
if Thomas Peart had reached home, and upon being informed that 
he had, replied that it was not expected lie ever could. 

The Indians, concluding to make a war excursion, asked Thomas 
to go with them ; but he determinately refused them, and was there¬ 
fore left at home with the family ; and not long after had permission 
to visit his brother Benjamin Peart, who was then about fifteen 01 
eighteen miles distant, down the Genesee river. 

Benjamin Peart was at that time very much indisposed. Thomas, 
therefore, staid with him several days, and, when he recovered a 
little strength, left him, and returned to his old habitation. 

lie was thoroughly acquainted with the customs, manners and 
dispositions of the Indians, and observing that they treated him just as 
they had done the old worthless Indian in whose place he was adopted, 
he having been considered a perquisite of the squaws ; lie therefore 
concluded he would only fill his predecessor’s station, and used no 
endeavours to please them, as his business was to cut wood for the 
family ; notwithstanding lie might easily have procured a sufficient 
store, yet he was not so disposed, but ofien refused, and even left it 
for the squaws some times to do themselves, not doubting if he was 
diligent and careful, they would be less willing to give him his 
liberty. 

Joseph Gilbert came to see him, as has been mentioned, and in¬ 
formed him of the decease of their father. 

Some lime in the fall, the king (whose brother Thomas was called) 
died, and he was directed to hew boards and make a coffin for him : 
when it was completed, they smeared it with red paint. The 
women, whose attention to this is always insisted on amongst the 
Indians, kept the corpse for several days, when they prepared a 
grave and interred him, it being considered amongst this tribe dis¬ 
graceful for a man to take any notice of this solemn and interesting 
scene. A number of the squaws collected upon this occasion, and 
there was great mourning, which they continued for several days at 
stated times. As the place of interment, as well as that appointed 
for weeping, was near the hut Thomas Peart resided at, he had an 
opportunity of indulging his curiosity, through the openings of the 
logs, without giving offence. 

Soon after this, one of the women who was called Thomas’s sister, 
desired him to accompany her about fifty miles towards Niagara. 
Some others of the family went with them, and in their way they 
took a deer and other game. 

They were from home on this journey about six days ; during this 
time, there fell a heavy snow, which made their journey toilsome. 
The women were sent homeward before the rest, to prepare some¬ 
thing against they came. 

AVhen they had loitered at home a few days, they set about gathering 
their winter store of hickory nuts. From some of them they extract¬ 
ed an oil, which they ate witli bread or meat, at their pleasure. 

Frequently before they set off on their hunting parties, they make 
22 


252 


gilbert’s narrative. 


an Indian frolick; when, commonly, all the company become 
extravagantly intoxicated. And when they intended to go off this 
winter, they first gave the preparatory entertainment. 

After they were gone, Thomas Peart and the mistress of the family 
disagreeing, she insisted upon his joining the hunters, and living on 
the game, that she might save more corn. He plead the coldness of 
the season, and his want of clothing, but it would not avail; he was 
therefore turned out, and upon finding the hunters, he built them a 
hut, where they staid for some weeks, taking the game, and eating 
wild meat without corn, as the supply they had raised was short. 

When they were weary of their employ, they moved to their old 
hut, and lived in their idle manner for a long time. They then 
again returned to their hut, staid about ten days, and took several 
deer. 

A few days after their return from hunting, they informed 
Thomas that they should set off for Niagara; which was truly 
grateful to him. There were fifteen of them on this visit. The old 
woman gave Thomas Peart a strict charge to return. 

Although the prospect of seeing or hearing from his relations was 
delightful, yet the journey was excessively painful; the snow cover¬ 
ing the ground to a considerable depth, the cold increased, and they 
had to wade through several deep creeks, the water often freezing to 
their legs ; and Thomas Peart, as well as the rest, were unclothed, 
excepting a blanket and pair of leggings. 

In five days they came to Fort Slusher, and by the treats they 
there received, were most of them drunk for the day. 

Next morning they went to Niagara, where he immediately made 
application to the British officers to solicit his release. Capt. Powel 
informed Colonel Johnson, who requested it of the Indians ; they 
required some time to deliberate upon the subject; not willing to 
disoblige the Colonel, they at length concluded to comply with his 
request; telling him, that however hard it might be to part with 
their own flesh, yet, to please him they consented to it, hoping he 
would make them some present. 

Col. Johnson then directed him to his own house, and desired 
him to clean himself, and sent clothes for him to dress with. Here 
he had plenty of salt provisions, and every necessary of life. This, 
with the happy regaining of his liberty, gave a new spring to his 
spirits, and for a few days he scarelv knew how to enjoy sufficiently 
this almost unlooked for change. 

When recruited, he went to work for Col. Johnson, and a few 
weeks after had the satisfaction of his brother Benjamin Peart’s 
company ; who, though not released, yet was permitted to stay at 
the fort, and worked with his brother until spring ; when Capt. 
Powel, lieutenant Johnson, and Thomas Peart went up Buffalo 
Creek, with two boats loaded with provisions, and a proportion of 
planting corn, together with hoes, to be distributed among the Indians. 

In the expedition, Thomas had the satisfaction of seeing and con¬ 
versing with his sister Rebecca, which was the first of their meeting 
together, after a separation of a year. 


gilbert’s narrative. 


253 


At the distribution of the corn and hoes, the Indians met and made 
a genetal feast; after which they dispersed ; and the officers, when 
they had, completed their business, returned to Niagara, after an 
absence of eight or nine days. 

Thomas Peart was settled at Col. Johnson’s, to work for him at 
two shillings and six pence per day, till August, when six of the 
captives were sent to Montreal, and Thomas also had permission to 
go, but he chose rather to stay, to afford his assistance to his sister 
Rebecca Gilbert, and his cousin Benjamin Gilbert, jun. who yet re¬ 
mained in captivity ; exerting himself as strenuously as possible on 
their behalf. 

In the fall, he went up again to Buffalo Creek, where he saw his 
sister and cousin a second time, and assured his sister that the Col. 
intended to insist on her being released: This encouraged her to 
hope. 

In the winter, Thomas Peart undertook to chop wood for the 
British Officers, and built himself a hut about two miles from the 
fort, in which he lodged at night. A drunken Indian came to his 
cabin one evening with his knife in his hand, with an intention of 
mischief; but, being debilitated with liquor, Thomas Peart easily 
wrested his knife from him. 

A wolf came one night up to the door of his cabin, which he dis¬ 
covered next morning, by the tracks in the snow ; and, a few nights 
after, paid a second visit, when he fired at him, and, by the blood on 
the snow, supposed he had mortally wounded him. 

Next spring, Thomas went with the officers again up Buffalo 
Creek, when he afresh animated his sister, by informing her that 
General Haldimand had given orders to the officers to procure their 
liberty. 

About two w T eeks after they returned, Thomas Peart went back 
again with some officers, who were going to the Indians. 

After a tour of fifteen days, he came again to the fort, where he 
staid for several weeks, and received several letters from his rela¬ 
tions, at Montreal, by some officers who were on their way to 
Cataraguors, on Lake Erie, about eighty miles from Niagara ; who, 
in their way, saw Rebecca and Benjamin Gilbert, jun., with a num¬ 
ber of Indians, going to Niagara. Thomrs Peart made as quick 
dispatch as possible, to meet them, delighted with the prospect of 
their obtaining their liberty. 

A few days after he returned from this expedition, the captives 
were delivered up : These two had been with the Indians upwards 
of two years. 

In a short time after their release, Thomas Peart procured permis¬ 
sion for them and himself to proceed to Montreal, and was furnished 
with a pass, containingan order to obtain what provisions they might 
be in want of in their passage. 

The second day of June, 1782, they went on board the ship 
Lunner, and after being seven days on the water, they reached Fort 
Lasheen, where they staid that night, and the next day went to 


254 


gilbert’s narrative. 


Montreal to their relations : Soon after which, a letter was received 
from the before mentioned Benjamin Gilbert, then at Castleton, 
acquainting them of his being so far on his way to Montreal, in 
order to give them assistance in getting home, and requesting that 
permission might be obtained for his coming in ; which Elizabeth 
immediately applied to the officers for ; who, with great cheerful¬ 
ness, wrote in her behalf to General Haldimand, at Quebec, who 
readily granted her request, together with other favours to Elizabeth, 
worthy of her grateful remembrance ; by which means, Benjamin’s 
arrival at Montreal was soon effected, where he had the pleasure 
once more of seeing and conversing with his relations and nearest 
connexions, to their great joy and satisfaction, after an absence of 
near three years ; during which time, they had but little if any cer¬ 
tain account of each other. 

After sometime spent in inquiring alter their relatives and friends, 
and conversing on the once unthought of and strange scenes of life 
they had passed through since their separation, it became necessary 
to prepare for their journey homewards, which was accordingly 
done, and in about five weeks from the time of Benjamin’s arrival, 
they took leave of the friends and acquantances they had made during 
their residence there ; and on the twenty-second day of August, 
1782, attended by a great number of the inhabitants, they embarked 
in boats prepared for them, and took their departure. 

On the twenty-eighth day of the month following, they arrived at 
Byberry, the place of their nativity, and the residence of their nearest 
connexions and friends, where Elizabeth and her children were once 
more favoured with the agreeable opportunity of seeing and con¬ 
versing with her ancient mother, together with their other nearest 
relatives and friends, to their mutual joy and satisfaction; unde? 
which happy circumstance we now leave them. 







NARRATIVE 

O F 


Lieut MOSES VAN € All TEN,* 


DURING THE WAR OF THE REVOLUTION. 


WRITTEX BI HIMSELF. 


My first service was in the year 1777, when I served three raonihs 
under Col. John Kelly, who stationed us at Big Isle, on the west 
branch of the Susquehanna. Nothing particular transpired during 
that time, and in March, 1778, I was appointed lieutenant of a com¬ 
pany of six-months men. Shortly afterward, I was ordered by Col. 
Samuel Hunter to proceed with about twenty men to Fishing Creek, 
(which empties into the north branch of the Susquehanna about 
twenty miles from Northumberland,) and to build a fort about three 
miles from its mouth, for the reception of the inhabitants in case of 
an alarm from the Indians. In May, my fort being nearly completed, 
our spies discovered a large party of Indians making their way 
towards the fort. The neighbouring residents had barely time to fly 
to the fort for protection, leaving their goods behind. The Indians 
soon made their appearance, and having plundered and burnt the 
houses, attacked the fort, keeping a steady fire upon us during the 
day. At night they withdrew, burning and destroying every tiling 
in their route. What loss they sustained we could not ascertain, as 
they carried off all the dead and wounded, though, from the marks 
of blood on the ground, it must have been considerable. The inhabi-. 
tants that took shelter in the fort had built a yard for their cattle 
at the head of a small fiat a short distance from the fort, and one 
evening in the month of June, just as they were milking them, my 
sentinel called my attention to some movement in the brush, which 
I soon discovered to be Indians, making their way to the cattle yard. 
There was no time to be lost; 1 immediately selected ten of my 
sharpshooters, and under cover of a rise of land, got between them 

* This narrative was sent by the author to Congress, in the winter of 1838, 
accompanied by a petition for a pension, which was granted. 

22 * 



256 


VAN CAMPEN’s NARRATIVE. 


and the milkers. On ascending the ridge we found ourselves within 
pistol-shot of them ; I fired first, and killed the leader, but a volley 
from my men did no further execution, the Indians running off at 
once. In the mean time the milk pails flew in every direction, and 
the best runner got to the fort first. As the season advanced, Indian 
hostilities increased, and notwithstanding the vigilance of our scouts, 
which were constantly out, houses were burnt and familes murdered. 
In the summer of 1778 occurred the great massacre of Wyoming, 
after which the governors of Connecticut, New York and Pennsyl¬ 
vania petitioned congress to adopt speedy measures for the protection 
of the western frontier, which subject was referred to a committee of 
congress and General Washington. The committee recommended 
that the war should be carried into the enemy’s country, and a com¬ 
pany of rangers raised for the defence of the lrontier. In 1779 Gen. 
Sullivan was sent with an army into their country. The provisions 
for the supply of the army were purchased in the settlements along 
the waters of the Susquehanna, and deposited in store-houses. I 
was appointed, under the title of quarter-master, to superintend this 
business, and about the middle of July, by means of boats, had 
collected all the provisions, at Wyoming, where Gen. Sullivan with 
his army lay waiting for them. About the last of July our army 
moved for Tioga Point, while a fleet of boats ascended the river 
parallel with the army. We reached Tioga Point early in August, 
where we halted for Gen. Clinton to join us w'ith his brigade, which 
came by the way of the Mohawk river, and so into Lake Otsego. 
During this time the Indians were collecting in considerable force at 
Chemung, a large Indian village about eleven miles distant. As they 
became very troublesome neighbours, Gen. Clinton contemplated an 
attack upon them, but wished to ascertain their numbers and situa¬ 
tion, and selected me for that dangerous enterprise. I prepared 
myself an Indian dress, breech-cloth leggings, and moccasins. My 
cap had a good supply of feathers, and being painted in Indian style, 
I set off with one man, dressed in the same manner. We left the 
camp after dark, and proceeded with much caution until we came to 
the Chemung, which we supposed would be strongly guarded. We 
ascended the mountain, crossed over it and came in view of their 
fires, when having descended the hill, we waited quietly until they 
lay down and got to sleep. We then walked round their camp, 
counted the fires and the number of Indians at some of the fires, thus 
forming an estimate of their number, which I took to be about six or 
seven hundred. I returned, and having made my report to the 
general early next morning, I went to my tent, spread down my 
blanket, and had a refreshing sleep. In the afternoon Major Adam 
Hoopes, one of the general’s aids, requested me to wait upon the 
general, which I obeyed. The latter requested, as I had learnt the 
way to Chemung, that I would lead the advance, he having selected 
Gen. Samuel Hand, of the Pennsylvania line, to make them a visit 
with eleven hundred men. I accepted the service* and we took up 
our line of march after sundown. When we came to the Narrows 


van campen’s narrative. 


257 


I halted, according to order, until the main body came up, when the 
general ordered us to enter the Narrows, observing, “ Soldiers, cut 
your way through.” We did so, and entered the Indian village and 
camp at day-break, but found that the birds had flown. VVe halted 
a few minutes for our men to refresh, set fiie to their village, and 
having discovered from their trail that they had gone up the river, 
followed it about two miles. Here our path lay up a narrow ridge, 
called Hogback Hill, which we remarked sejmed formed by nature 
lor an Indian ambuscade. Accordingly, every eye was fixed on the 
hill, and as we began to ascend, we saw the bushes tiemble, and 
immediately rifles were presented, and we received a deadly fire, by 
which sixteen or seventeen of the advance were killed or wounded. 
We that stood sprang under cover of the bank, and for a moment 
reserved our fire. Six or seven stout fellows rushed out with toma¬ 
hawk and knife to kill and scalp our comrades. It was now our 
turn to fire: every shot counted one: they fell. Gen. Hand now 
came on at quick step, advanced within a few rods of them, and 
ordered his men to fire and then charge them at the point of the 
bayonet; they were soon routed and put to flight. We returned 
with our dead and wounded the same night to our former camp. 
We had no further opportunity of coming to a brush with them, 
until we were joined by our whole force under Gen. Clinton. We 
were opposed by the enemy’s whole force, consisting of Indians, 
British and tories, to whom we gave battle a little below Newtown 
Point. Our loss was trifling. 

On the return of the army I was taken with the camp fever, and 
was removed to the fort which I had built in ’78, where my father 
was still living. In the course of the winter I recovered my health, 
and my father’s house having been burnt in ’78 by the party which 
attacked the before-mentioned fort, my father requested me to go 
with him and a younger brother to our farm, about four miles distant, 
to make preparations for building another, and raising some grain. 
But little apprehension was entertained of molestations from the 
Indians this season, as they had been so completely routed the year 
before. We left the fort about the last of March, accompanied 
by my uncle and his son, about twelve years old, and one Peter 
Pence. We had been on our farms about four or five days, 
when, on the morning of the 30th of March, we were surprised by a 
party of ten Indians. My father was lunged through with a war- 
spear, his throat was cut and he was scalped, while my brother was 
tomahawked, scalped, and thrown into the fire before my eyes. 
While I was struggling with a warrior, the fellow who had killed 
my father drew his spear from his body and made a violent thrust at 
me. I shank from the spear, the savage who had hold of me turned 
it with his hand so that it only penetrated my vest and shirt. They 
were then satisfied with taking me prisoner, as they had the same 
morning taken mv uncle’s little son and Pence, though they killed 
my uncle. The same party, before they reached us, had touched on 
the lower settlements of Wyoming, and killed a Mr. Upson, and 
took a boy prisoner of the name of Rogers. We were now marched 


258 


VAN CAMPEN’s NARRATIVE. 


off up Fishing Creek, and in the afternoon of the same day we came 
to Huntingdon, where the Indians found four white men at a sugar 
<;ainp, who fortunately discovered the Indians and fled to a house ; 
the Indians only fired on them and wounded a Capt. Ransom, when 
they continued their course till night. Having encamped and made 
their fire, we, the prisoners, were tied and well secured, five Indians 
lying on one side of us and five on the other; in the morning they 
pursued their course, and, leaving the waters of Fishing Creek, 
touched the head waters of Hemlock Creek, where they found one 
Abraham Pike, his wife and child. Pike was made prisoner, but 
his wife and child, they painted and told Joggo, squaw, go home. 
They continued their course that day, and encamped the same night 
in the same manner as the previous. It came into my mind that 
sometimes individuals performed wonderful actions, and surmounted 
the greatest dangers. I then decided that these fellows must die ; and 
thought of the plan to despatch them. The next day I hud an 
opportunity to communicate my plan to my fellow-prisoners ; they 
treated it as a visionary scheme for three men to attempt to despatch 
ten Indians. I spread before them the advantages that three men 
would have over ten when asleep; and that we would be the first 
prisoners that would be taken into their towns and villages after our 
army had destroyed their corn, that we should be tied to the stake 
and suffer a cruel death ; we had now an inch of ground to fight on, 
and if we failed it would only be death, and we might as well die one 
way as another. That day passed away, and having encamped for 
the night, we lay as before. In the morning we came to the river, 
and saw their canoes ; they had descended the river and run their 
canoes upon Little Tunkhannock Creek, so called ; they crossed the 
river and set their canoes adrift. I renewed my suggestion to my 
companions to despatch them that night, and urged they must decide 
the question. They agreed to make the trial; but how shall we do 
it, was the question. Disarm them, and each take a tomahawk, and 
come to close work at once. There are three of us : plant our blows 
with judgment and three times three will make nine, and the tenth 
one we can kill at our leisure. They agreed to disarm them, and 
after that, one take possession of the guns .and fire, at the one side 
of the four, and the other two take tomahawks on the other side and 
despatch them. I observed that would be a very uncertain way ; 
the first shot fired would give the alarm ; they would discover it to 
be the prisoners, and might deleat us. I had to yield to their plan. 
Peter Pence was chosen to fire the guns, Pike and myself to toma¬ 
hawk ; we cut and carried plenty of wood to give them a good fire ; 
the prisoners were tied and laid in their places ; after 1 was laid 
down, one of them had occasion to use his knife ; he dropped it at 
my feet; I turned my foot over it and concealed it: they all lay 
down and feel asleep. About midnight 1 got up and found them in 
sound sleep. I slipped to Pence, who rose ; I cut him loose and 
handed him the knife; he did the same for me. and I in turn took 
the knife and cut Pike loose ; in a minute’s time we disarmed them. 


VAN CAMPEN’s NARRATIVE. 


259 


Pence took his station at the guns. Pike and mvself with our 
tomahawks took our stations ; I was to tomahawk three on the right 
wing, and Pike two on the left. That moment Pike’s two awoke, 
and were getting up ; here Pike proved a coward, and laid down. 
It was a critical moment. I saw there was no time to be lost; their 
heads turned up fair ; I despatched them in a moment, and turned to 
my lot as per agreement, and as I was about to despatch the last on 
my side of the fire, Pence shot and did good execution ; there 
was only one at the of! wing that his ball did not reach ; his name 
was Mohawke, a stout, bold, darmg fellow. In the alarm he jumped 
off about three rods from the fire; he saw it was the prisoners that 
made the attack, and giving the war-whoop, he darted to take posses¬ 
sion of the guns ; I was as quick to prevent him ; the contest was 
then between him and myself. As I raised my tomahawk, he turned 
quick to jump from me ; I followed him and struck at him, but 
missing his head, my tomahawk struck his shoulder, or rather the 
back of his neck ; he pitched forward and fell ; at the same time my 
foot slipped, and I fell by his side; we clinched; his arm was naked; 
he caught me round my neck, at the same lime 1 caught him with 
my left arm around the body, and gave him a close hug, at the same 
time feeling for his knife, but could not reach it. 

In our scuffle my tomahawk dropped out. My head was under 
the wounded shoulder, and almost suffocated me with his blood. I 
made a violent spring, and broke from his hold : we both rose at the 
same time, and he ran ; it took me some time to clear the blood from 
my eyes ; my tomahawk got covered up and I could not find it in 
time to overtake him ; he was the only one of the party that escaped. 
Pike was powerless. I always have had a reverence for Christian 
devotion. Pike was trying to pray, and Pence swearing at him, 
charging him with cowardice, and saying it was no time to pray—he 
ought to fight ; we were masters of the ground, and in possession of 
all their guns, blankets, match coats, &c. I then turned my atten¬ 
tion to scalping them, and recovering the scalps of my father, brother, 
and others, l strung them all on my bell for safe keeping. We kept 
our ground till morning, and built a raft, it being near the bank of 
the river where they had encamped, about fifteen miles below Tioga 
Point ; we got all our plunder on it, and set sail for Wyoming, the 
nearest settlement. Our raft gave way, when we made for land, but 
we lost considerable properly, though we saved our guns and ammuni¬ 
tion, and took to land ; we reached Wylusing late in the afternoon. 
Came to the narrows ; discovered a smoke below, and a raft laying 
at the shore, by which we were certain that a party of Indians had 
passed us in the course of the day, and had halted for the night. 
There was no alternative for us but to rout them or go over the 
mountain ; the snow on the north side of the hill was deep ; we 
knew from the appearance of the raft that the party must be small; 
we had two rifles each ; my only fear was of Pike’s cowardice. To 
know the worst of it we agreed that I should ascertain their number 
and give the signal for the attack ; I crept down the side of the hill, 


260 


van campen’s narrative. 


so near as to see their fires and packs, but saw no Indians. I con¬ 
cluded they had gone hunting for meat, and that this was a good 
opportunity for us to make off with their raft to the opposite side of 
the river. I gave the signal; they came and threw their packs on to 
the raft, which was made of small, dry pine timber; with poles and 
paddles we drove her briskly across the river, and had got nearly 
out of reach of shot, when two of them came in ; they fired, their 
shots did no injury ; we soon got under cover ot an island, and went 
several miles ; we had waded deep creeks through the day, the night 
was cold : we landed on an island and found a sink hole in which 
we made our fire ; after warming we were alarmed by a cracking in 
the crust; Pike supposed the Indians had got on to the island, and 
was for calling for quarters; to keep him quiet we threatened him 
with his life ; the stepping grew plainer, and seemed coming directly 
to the fire ; I kept a watch, and soon a noble raccoon came under 
the light. I shot the raccoon, when Pike jumped up and called out, 
“ Quarters, gentlemen : quarters, gentlemen.” I took my game by 
the leg and threw it down to the fire, “ Here, you cowardly rascal,” 
I cried, “ skin that and give us a roast for supper.” The next night 
we reached Wyoming, and there was much joy to see us ; we rested 
one day, and it being not safe to go to Northumberland by land, we 
procured a canoe, and with Pence and my little cousin, we decended 
the river by night; we came to Fort Jenkins before day, where I 
found Col. Kelly and about one hundred men encamped out of the 
fort ; he came across from the west branch bv the heads of Chiils- 
quaka to Fishing Creek, the end of the Nob Mountain, so called at 
that day, where my father and brother were killed ; he had buried 
mv father and uncle ; my brother was burnt, a small part of him 
only was to be found. Col. Kelly informed me that my mother and 
her children were in the fort, and it was thought that I was killed 
likewise. Col. Kelly went into the fort to prepare her mind to see 
me ; I took off my belt of scalps and handed them to an officer to 
keep. Human nature was not sufficient to stand the interview. She 
had just lost a husband and a son, and one had returned to take her 
by the hand, and one, too, that she supposed was killed. 

The day after I went to Sunbury, where I was received with joy ; 
my scalps were exhibited, the cannons were fired, &c. Before my 
return a commission had been sent me as ensign of a company to be 
commanded by Capt. Thomas Robinson ; this was, as I understood, 
a part of the quota which Pennsylvania had to raise for the continental 
line. One Joseph Alexander was commissioned as lieutenant, but 
did not accept his commission. The summer of 1780 was spent in 
the recruiting service ; our company was organized, and was retained 
for the defence of the frontier service. In February, 1781 , I was 
promoted to a lieutenancy, and entered upon the active duty of an 
officer by heading scouts, and as Capt. Robinson was no woodsman 
nor marksman, he preferred that I should encounter the danger and 
head the scouts ; we kept up a constant chain of scouts around the 
frontier settlements, from the north to the west branch of the Susque- 


VAN CAMAEN’S NARRATIVE. 


261 


hanna, by the way of the head waters of Little Fishing Creek, 
Chillisquaka, and Muncy, &c. In the spring of 1781 we built a 
fort on the widow M’Clure’s plantation, called M’Clure’s fort, where 
our provisions were stored. In the summer of 1781 a man was 
taken prisoner in Buffalo Valley, but made his escape ; he came in 
and reported there were about three hundred Indians on Sinnemaho- 
ning, hunting and laying in a store of provisions, and would make a 
descent on the frontiers; that they would divide into small parties, and 
attack the whole chain of the frontier at the same time, on the same 
day. Col. Samuel Hunter selected a company of five to reconnoitre, 
viz. Capt. Campell, Peter and Michael Groves, Lieut. Cramer, and 
myself; the party was called the Grove Party. We carried with us 
three weeks’ provisions, and proceeded up the west branch with 
much caution and care ; we reached the Sinnemahoning, but made 
no discovery except old tracks ; we marched up the Sinnemahoning 
so far that we were satisfied it was a false report. We returned, and 
a little below the Sinnemahoning, near night, we discovered a smoke ; 
we were confident it was a party of Indians, which we must have 
passed by or they got there some other way ; we discovered there 
was a large party, how many we could not tell, but prepared for the 
attack. 

As soon as it was dark we new primed our rifles, sharpened our 
flints, examined our tomahawk handles, and all being ready, we waited 
with great impatience, and till they all lay down ; the time came, and 
with the utmost silence we advanced, trailed our rifles in one hand and 
the tomahawk in the other. The night was warm ; we found some of 
them rolled in their blankets a rod or two from their fires. Having 
got amongst them, we first handled our tomahawks ; they rose like 
a dark cloud; we now fired our shots, and raised the war-yell ; 
they took to flight in the utmost confusion, but few taking time to 
pick up their rifles. We remained masters of the ground and all 
their plunder, and took several scalps. It was a party of twenty- 
five or thirty, which had been as low down as Penn’s Creek, and 
had killed and scalped two or three families; we found several 
scalps of different ages which they had taken, and a large quantity 
of domestic cloth, which was carried to Northumberland and given 
to the distressed who had escaped the tomahawk and knife. In 
December, 1781, our company was ordered to Lancaster; we de¬ 
scended the river in boats to Middletown, where our orders were 
countermanded, and we were ordered to Reading, Berks county, 
where we were joined by a part of the third and fifth Pennsylvania 
regimenls, and a company ol the Congress regiment. We took 
charge of the Hessians taken prisoners by Gen. Burgoyne. In the 
latter part of March, at the opening of the campaign in 1782, we 
were ordered by Congress to our respective stations. I marched 
Robinson’s company to Northumberland, where Mr. Thomas Cham¬ 
bers joined us, who had been recently commissioned as an ensign of 
our company. We halted at Northumberland two or three days for 
our men to wash and rest; from thence ensign Chambers and my- 


262 


VAN CAMPEN’S NARRATIVE. 


self were ordered to Muncy, Samuel Wallis’s plantation, there to 
make a stand and rebuild Fort Muncy, which had been destroyed by 
the enemy. We reached that station, and built a small block-house 
for the storage of our provisions; about the 10th or 11th of April, 
Capt. Robinson came on with Esquire Culbertson, James Dough¬ 
erty, William M’Grady, and a Mr. Barkley ; I was ordered to select 
twenty or twenty-five men with these gentlemen, and to proceed up 
the west branch to the Big Island, and thence up the Bald Eagle 
Creek, to the place where a Mr. Culbertson had been killed. On 
the 15th of April, at night, we reached the place, and encamped for 
the night; on the morning of the 16th we were attacked by eighty- 
five Indians. It was a hard-fought battle ; Esquire Culbertson and 
two others made their escape ; f think we had nine killed, and the 
rest of us were made prisoners. We were stripped of all our 
clothing excepting our pantaloons. When they took of! my shirt 
they discovered my commission ; our commissions were written on 
parchment, and carried in a silk case hung with a ribbon in our bo¬ 
som ; several got a hold of it, and one fellow cut the ribbon with his 
knife, and succeeded in obtaining it. They took us a little distance 
from the battle-ground, made the prisoners sit down in a small ring, 
the Indians forming another around us in close order, each with his 
rifle and tomahawk in his hand. They brought up five Indians we 
had killed, and laid them within their circle. Each one reflected for 
himself; our time would probably be short, and respecting myself, 
looking back upon the year ’80, at the party I had killed, if 1 was 
discovered to be the person, my case would be a hard one. Their 
prophet, or chief warrior, made a speech ; as I was informed after¬ 
wards by the British Lieutenant who belonged to the party, he was 
consulting the Great Spirit what to do with the prisoners, whether 
to kill us on the spot or spare our lives : he came to the conclusion 
that there had been blood enough shed, and as to the men they had 
lost, it was the fate of war, and we must be taken and adopted into 
the families of those whom we had killed; we were then divided 
amongst them according to the number of fires ; packs were pre¬ 
pared for us, and they returned across the river at the Big Island in 
bark canoes : they then made their way across hills, and came to 
Pine Creek, above the first forks, which they followed up to the 
third fork, and took the most northerly branch to the head of it, and 
thence to the waters of the Genesee river. After two days travel 
down the Genesee river, we came to a place called the Pigeon 
Woods, where a great number of Indian families, old and young, 
had come to catch young pigeons; there we met a party of about 
forty warriors, on their way to the frontier settlements; they en¬ 
camped some little distance apart, the warriors of the two parties 
holding a council at our camp. I soon perceived that. I was the 
subject of their conversation ; 1 was seized and dragged to the other 
camp, where the warriors were sitting on one side of a large fire ; I 
was seated alone on the opposite side. Every eye was fixed upon 
me; I perceived they were gathering around in great numbers; in 


VAX campen’s narrative. 


263 


a short time I perceived a man pressing through the crowd ; he 
came to me and sat down ; I saw he was a white man painted, in 
Indian dress. He examined me on the situation of the frontiers, the 
strength of our forts, the range of our scouts, &c. After he got 
through, he observed that there was only one beside himself there 
that knew me. “ Do you know me, sir ?” said I. “I do : you 
are the man that killed the Indians.” I thought of the fire and the 
stake; he observed that he was a prisoner and a friend; that his 
name was Jones, and he had been taken prisoner in the spring of 
’81, with Capt. John Boyde, in Bedford county; that he would not 
expose me, and if I could pass through undiscovered and be deliv¬ 
ered up to the British, I would be safe; if not, I would have to die 
at the stake. The next morning they moved down the river ; two 
days afterwards they came to the Caneadia village, the first on the 
Genesee river, where we were prepared to run the Indian gauntlet; 
the warriors don’t whip—it is the young Indians and squaws. 
They meet you in sight of their council-house, where they select 
the prisoners from the ranks of the warriors, bring them in front, 
and when ready the word joggo is given ; the prisoners start, the 
whippers follow after, and if they out run you, you will be severely 
whipped. I was placed in front of my men ; the word being given, 
we started. Being then young and full of nerve, I led the way ; 
two young squaws came running up to join the whipping party, 
and when they saw us start, they halted, and stood shoulder to 
shoulder with their whips ; when I came near them I bounded and 
kicked them over ; we all came down together ; there was consid¬ 
erable kicking amongst us, so much so that they showed their 
under dress, which appeared to be of a beautiful yellow colour; I 
had not time to help them up. It was truly diverting to the war¬ 
riors ; they yelled and shouted till they made the air ring. They 
halted at that village for one day, and thence went to Fort Niagara, 
where I was delivered up to the British. 1 was adopted, according 
to the Indian custom, into Col. Butler’s family then the command¬ 
ing officer of the British and Indians at that place. I was to supply 
the loss of his son, Capt. Butler, who was killed late in the fall of 
1781, by the Americans. In honour to me as his adopted son, 
I was confined in a private room, and not put under a British 
guard. My troubles soon began ; the Indians were informed by 
the tories that knew me that I had been a prisoner before, and 
had killed my captors ; they were outrageous, and went to Butler 
and demanded me, and as I was told, offered to bring in fourteen 
prisoners in my place. Butler sent an officer to examine me on 
the subject; he came and informed me their Indians had laid 
heavy accusations against me ; they were informed that I had 
been a prisoner before, and killed the party, and that they had 
demanded me to be given up to them, and that his colonel wished 
to know the fact. I observed, “ Sir, it is a serious question to 
answer; I will never deny the truth ; I have been a prisoner 
before, and killed the party, and returned to the service of my 
23 


264 


VAN CAMPEN’s NARRATIVE. 


country; but, sir, I consider myself to be a prisoner of war to 
the British, and I presume you will have more honor than to 
deliver me up to the savages. I know what my fate will be; 
and please to inform your colonel that we have it in our power 
to retaliate.” He left me, and in a short time returned and 
stated that he was authorised to say to me that there was no 
alternative for me to save my life but to abandon the rebel cause 
and join the British standard; that I should take the same rank 
in the British service as I did in the rebel service. I replied, 
“ No, sir, no ; give me the stake, the tomahawk, or the knife, 
before a British commission ; liberty or death is our motto 
he then left me. Some time after a lady came to my room, 
with whom I had been well acquainted before the Revolution ; 
we had been school mates ; she was then married to a British 
officer, a captain of the queen’s rangers; he came with her. She 
had been to Col. Butler, and she was authorised to make me 
the same offer as the officer had done ; I thanked her for the 
trouble she had taken for my safety, hut could not accept of the 
offer ; she observed how much more honorable would it be to be 
an officer in the British service. I observed that I could not 
dispose of myself in that way ; I belonged to the Congress of 
the United States, and that I would abide the consequence ; she 
left me, and that was the last I heard of it. A guard was set at 
the door of my apartment. 

In about four days after I was sent down Lake Ontario to a 
place called Carlton Island: from thence down the St. Law¬ 
rence to Montreal, where I was placed in prison, and found forty 
or fifty of our American officers, and where we had the honor 
to look through the iron grates. The fourth of July was draw¬ 
ing near ; ten of us combined to celebrate the political birth-day 
of our country ; we found ways and means to have some brandy 
conveyed in to us unknown to the British guard, and we had 
a high day, after making a compromise with the guard. It 
was highly offensive to the British officers, and we ten were 
taken out and sent to Quebec, thence down the St. Lawrence, 
and put on the Isle of Orleans, where we remained until the 
last of September; a British fleet sailed about that time and 
bound for New York; we were put on board of that fleet; 
when we came to New York there was no exchange for us. Gen. 
Carlton then commanded the British army at New York; he paroled 
us to return home. 

In the month of March, 1783, I was exchanged, and had orders 
to take up arms again. I joined my company in March at North¬ 
umberland ; about that time Capt. Robinson received orders to 
march his company to Wyoming, to keep garrison at Wilkesbarre 
Fort. He sent myself and Ensign Chambers with the company 
to that station, where we lay till November, 1783. Our army was 
then discharged, and our company likewise: poor and pennyless, 
we retired to the shades of private life. 


SKETCHES 


OF THE 

LIFE AND MILITARY AND HUNTING ADVENTURES 

o F 

Capt SAMUEL BRADY. 


Who has not heard of Brady—captain of the spies?—Of his 
perilous adventures by field and flood ?—Of his hair-breadth escapes 
in the imminent deadly breach ?—Of his chivalrous courage?—Of 
his unmatched personal activity ?—Yet where do we read his history ? 
It is to be learned only from the aged settlers of Western Penn¬ 
sylvania, or peradventure from a time-worn Ranger ;—for a few of 
Brady’s warriors still survive. 

Actuated by a desire to preserve from oblivion, such portions of 
his life and actions as may yet be obtained, I have made several 
attempts to procure from individuals the most interesting events in 
his military career, but hitherto without success.—At length an aged 
friend has kindly offered to furnish such details as an intimate 
acquintance with Captain Brady enables him to give. We trust that 
the subject will be deemed of such interest, that others will contribute 
their mite, and that an historian will yet be found to place Brady of 
the Rangers by the side of Wayne, Marion, Lee of the Legion, and 
other distinguished patriots whose memories are immortal. 

He is emphatically the hero of Western Pennsylvania ; and future 
bards of this region, when time shall have mellowed the facts of 
history, will find his name the personification of all that was fearless 
and fruitful of resources in the hour of danger. Ilis the step that 
faultered not—the eye that quailed not, even in the terrific scenes of 
Indian warfare. Many a mother has quieted the fears, and lulled to 
sleep her infant family, by the assurace that the broad Allegheny, 
the dividing line between the Indians and Whites, was watched by 
the gallant captain and his Rangers; and to their apprehensions of death 

* These sketches were originally written in numbers, for a country newspaper, 
(the RlairsviJle Record.) The division of the numbers is marked by a-. 




266 


brady’s adventures. 


or captivity by the Indians, has replied encouragingly,—“ they dare 
not move on the river, for there lies Brady and the Rangers.” 

John Brady, the father of Captain Samuel Brady, was born in the 
state of Delaware, A. D., 1733. Hugh Brady, the father of John, 
had emigrated from Ireland. At a very early period Hugh Brady 
settled within five miles of where Shippensburg now stands. The 
country was then a wilderness, thinly settled by Irish emigrants, 
simple, sincere and religious. Many anecdotes are collected, evin¬ 
cive of this, but they would be out of place here. 

During the French and Indian wars, that part of the country was 
much harassed by the Indians. John Brady and several other 
young men had been active against them, and as a mark and reward 
of merit, he was appointed captain in the provincial line, which at 
that time was no small distinction. He married Mary Quigly, and 
Samuel, their first child, was born in the town of Shippensburg, 
A. D. 1758. 

After the war, and a purchase had been made from the Indians in 
1768, John Brady moved with his family to the West Branch of 
the Susquehanna, where Samuel resided with him till June, 1775. 
Captain John Lowden, a widower, raised a company of volunteer 
riflemen, seventy in number, and all unmarried, and marched to 
Boston. Samuel Brady was one of this band, and the Captain 
intended that he should be an officer, but his father objected, saying, 
“ Let him first learn the duty of a soldier, and then he will know 
liow to act as an officer.” 

While the riflemen lay in the “ Leaguer of Boston,” frequent 
skirmishes took place. On one occasion, Lowden was ordered to 
select some able-bodied men, and wade to an island, when the tide 
was out, and drive off some cattle belonging to the British. He 
considered Brady too young for this service, and left him out of his 
selection; but to the Captain’s astonishment Brady was the second 
man on the island and behaved most gallantly. On another occa¬ 
sion, he was sitting on a fence, with his Captain, viewing the British 
works, when a cannon ball struck the fence under them. Brady 
was first up, caught the Captain in his arms and raised him saying 
with great composure, “ We are not hurt, captain.” Many like 
instances of his coolness and courage happened while the army lay 
at Boston. 

In 1776, S. Brady was appointed a first Lieutenant in Captain 
Thomas Doyle’s company, raised in Lancaster county. He continued 
with the army, and was in all the principal engagements until after 
the battle of Monmouth, when he was promoted to a captaincy and 
ordered to the west under General Broadhead. On their march he 
had leave to visit his friends in Northumberland county. His father, 
in 1776, had accepted a captaincy in the 12th Pennsylvania Regi¬ 
ment, was badly wounded at the battle of Brandywine, and was then 
at home. Whilst there, he heard of his brother’s death, who had 
been murdered by the Indians on the 9th day of August, 1778. He 


brady’s adventures. 


267 


remained at his father’s until the beginning of 1779, when he started 
for Pittsburg and joined his Regiment. 

Shortly after he had arrived at Pittsburg, he heard the news of his 
father being murdered by the Indians, on the 11th day of April, 1779. 
He then vowed vengeance against all Indians , and he never altered 
his mind.—Here commenced his western exploits, which must be 
the subject of another paper. 

At the battle of Princeton he was under Col. Hand, of Lancaster, 
and had advanced too far ;—they were nearly surrounded—Brady 
cut a horse out of a team, got his Colonel on, jumped on behind 
him, and made their escape. 

At the massacre at Paoli, Brady had been on guard, and had laid 
down with his blanket buckled round him. The British were nearly 
on them before the sentinel fired. Brady had to run ; he tried to 
get clear of his blanket coat, but could not. As he jumped a post 
and rail fence, a British soldier struck at him with his bayonet and 
pinned the blanket to the rail, but so near the edge, that it tore out. 
He dashed on,—a horseman overtook him and ordered him to stop.— 
Brady wheeled, shot him down and ran on.—He got into a small 
swamp in a field.—He knew of uo person but one being in it beside 
himself; but in the morning there were fifty-five, one of whom was 
a Lieutenant. They compared commissions, Brady’s was the 
oldest; he took the command and marched them to head quarters. 

In 1780 a small fort within the present limits of Pittsburg, was 
the head quarters of Gen. Broadhead, who was charged with the 
defence of this quarter of the frontier. The country north and west 
of the Allegheny river was in possession of the Indians. General 
Washington, whose comprehensive sagacity foresaw and provided 
against all dangers that menaced the country, wrote to General 
Broadhead to select a suitable officer and dispatch him to Sandusky, 
for the purpose of examining the place and ascertaining the force of 
British and Indians assembled there, with a view to measures of 
preparation and defence, against the depredations and attacks to be 
expected from thence. 

Gen. Broadhead had no hesitation in making the selection of an 
officer qualified for this difficult and dangerous duty. He sent for 
Capt. Brady, showed him Washington’s letter, and a draft or map 
of the country he must traverse ; very defective, as Brady afterwards 
discovered, but the best, no doubt, that could be obtained at that 
time. 

Captain Brady was not insensible to the danger, or ignorant of 
the difficulty of the enterprize. But he saw the anxiety of the 
father of his country to procure information that could only be ob¬ 
tained by this perilous mode, and knew its importance. His own 
danger was of inferior consideration. The appointment was accep¬ 
ted, and selecting a few soldiers, and four Chickasaw Indians as 
guides, he crossed the Allegheny river and was at once in the 
enemy’s country. 

23 * 



268 


brady’s adventures. 


It was in May, 1780 , that he commenced his march. The season 
was uncommonly wet. Every considerable stream was swollen, 
neither road, bridge, nor house facilitated their march, or shielded 
their repose. Part of their provision was picked up by the way as 
they crept, rather than marched through the wilderness by night, 
and lay concealed in its brambles by day. The slightest trace of 
his movement, the print of a white man’s foot on the sand of a river, 
might have occasioned the extermination of the party. Brady was 
versed in all the wiles of Indian “stratagie,” and, dressed in the full 
war dress of an Indian warrior, and well acquainted with their lan¬ 
guages, he led his band in safety near to the Sandusky towns, with¬ 
out seeing a hostile Indian. 

The night before he reached Sandusky he saw a fire, approached 
it and found two squaws reposing beside it. He passed on without 
molesting them. But his Chickasaws now deserted. This was 
alarming, for it was probable they had gone over to the enemy. 
However he determined to proceed. With a full knowledge of the 
horrible death that awaited him if taken prisoner, he passed on, until 
he stood beside the town and on the bank of the river. 

His first care was to provide a place of concealment for his men. 
When this was effected, having selected one man as the companion 
of his future adventures, he waded the river to an island partially 
covered with drift-wood, opposite the town, where he concealed him¬ 
self and comrade for the night. 

Leonidas was brave, and in obedience to the institutions of his 
country he courted death and found it in the pass of Thermopylae. 
But he was surrounded by his three hundred Spartans, and cheered 
by the Spartan battle hymn, mingled in concert with the sweet tones 
of the flute. 

Napoleon was brave, but his bravest acts were performed in the 
presence of embattled thousands; and when at the bridge of Lodi 
lie snatched the tri-colour from its terrified bearer, and uttering the 
war cry of his enthusiastic soldiers, “ Vive ha Republic,” he breasted 
the fire of thirty pieces of Austrian cannon, and planted it in the 
midst of its enemies, he was seen and followed by the gallant 
remains of the consular guard, and lauded with the cries and tears of 
his whole army. 

In constancy of purpose, in cool, deliberate courage, the Captain 
of the Rangers will compare with the examples quoted, or any other. 
Neither banner nor pennon waved over him. He was hundreds of 
miles in the heart of an enemy’s country. An enemy who, had they 
possessed it, would have given his weight in gold for the pleasure 
of burning him to death with a slow fire ; adding to his torments, 
both mental and physical, every ingredient that savage ingenuity 
could supply. 

Who that has poetry of feeling, or feeling of poetry, but must 
pause o’er such a scene, and in imagination contemplate its features. 

The murmuring river; the Indian village wrapt in sleep ; the 


brady’s adventures. 


269 


sylvan landscape ; as each was gazed upon by that lonely but daunt¬ 
less warrior, in the still midnight hour. 

The next morning a dense fog spread over hill and dale, town and 
river. All was hid from Brady’s eyes, save the logs and brush 
around him. About 11 o’clock it cleared off, and afforded him a 
view of about three thousand Indians engaged in the amusements of 
the race ground. 

They had just returned from Virginia or Kentucky with some 
very fine horses. One grey horse in particular attracted his notice. 
He won every race until near evening, when, as if envious of his 
speed, two riders were placed on him, and thus he was beaten. 
The starting post was only a few rods above where Brady lay, and 
he had a pretty fair chance of enjoying the amusement, without the 
risk of loosing any thing by betting on the race. 

He made such observation through the day as was in his power, 
waded out from the island at night, collected his men, went to the 
Indian camp he had seen as he came out; the squaws were still 
there, took them prisoners, and continued his march homeward. 

The map furnished by Gen. Broadhead was found to be defective. 
The distance was represented to be much less that it really was.— 
The provisions and ammunition of the men were exhausted by the 
time they had reached the Big Beaver, on their return. Brady shot 
an otter, but could not eat it. The last load was in his rifle. They 
arrived at an old encampment, and found plenty of strawberries, 
which they stopped to appease their hunger with. Having discov¬ 
ered a deer track, Brady followed it, telling the men he would per¬ 
haps get a shot at it. He had went but a few rods when he saw 
the deer standing broadside to him. He raised his rifle and attemp¬ 
ted to fire, but it flashed in the pan ; and he had not a priming of 
powder. Ho sat down, picked the touch hole, and then started on. 
After going a short distance the path made a bend, and he saw before 
him a large Indian on horseback, with a child before and its mother 
behind him on the horse, and a number of warriors marching in the 
rear. His first impulse was to shoot the Indian on horseback, but 
as he raised the rifle he observed the child’s head to roll with the 
motion of the horse. It was fast asleep and tied to the Indian. He 
stepped behind the root of a tree and waited until he could shoot the 
Indian, without danger to the child or its mother. 

When he considered the chance certain, he shot the Indian, who 
fell from the horse, and the child and its mother fell with him. 
Brady called to his men with a voice that made the forest ring, to 
surround the Indians and gave them a general fire. He sprung to 
the fallen Indian’s powder horn, but could not pull it off. Being 
dressed like an Indian, the woman thought he was one, and said 
“ why did you shoot your brother ?”—He caught up the child say¬ 
ing, “ Jenny Stupes, I am Capt. Brady,Tollow me and I will secure 
you and your child.”—He caught her baud in his, carrying the child 
under the other arm, and dashed into the brush* Many guns were 



270 


brady’s adventures. 


at him by this time, but no ball harmed him, and the Indians, 
heading an ambuscade, were glad to make off. The next day he 
arrived at Fort M’Intosh with the woman and her child. His men 
had got there before him. They had heard his war whoop and knew 
it was Indians he had encountered, but having no ammunition, they 
had taken to their heels and ran off. The squaws he had taken at 
Sandusky, availing themselves of the panic, had also made their 
escape. 

In those days Indian fashions prevailed in some measure with the 
whites, at least with Rangers. Brady was desirous of seeing the 
Indian he had shot, and the officer in command of Fort M’lntosh 
gave him some men in addition to his own, and he returned to search 
for the body. The place where he had fallen was discovered, but 
nothing more. No pains were spared to search, but the body was 
not found.—They were about to quit the place when the yell of a 
pet Indian that came with them from the fort, called them to a little 
glade, where the grave was discovered.—The Indians had interred 
their dead brother there, carefully replacing the sod in the neatest 
manner. They had also cut brushes and stuck them into the ground ; 
but the brushes had withered, and instead of concealing the grave 
they led to the discovery. 

He was buried about two feet deep ; with all his implements of 
war about him. 

“ He lay like a warrior taking his rest, 

With his powder-horn and pouch about him.” 

All his savage jewelry, his arms and ammunition were taken from 
him and the scalp from the head, and then they left him thus stripped 
alone in his grave. It is painful to think of such things being done 
by American soldiers, but we cannot now know all the excusing 
circumstances that may have existed at the time. Perhaps the 
husband of this woman, the lather of this child, was .thus butchered 
before his wife and children ; and the younger members of the family 
unable to bear the fatigues of travelling, had their brains dashed out 
on the threshold. Such things were common, and a spirit of revenge 
was deeply seated in the breasts of the people of the frontiers. Capt. 
Brady’s own family had heavily felt the merciless tomahawk. His 
brave and honored father, and a beloved brother had been treacher¬ 
ously slain by the Indians, and he had vowed vengeance. 

After refreshing himself and men, they went up to Pittsburg by 
water, where they were received with military honor. Minute guns 
were fired from the time Brady came in sight until he landed. 

The Chickasaw Indians had returned to Pittsburg and reported that 
the captain and his party had been cut off near Sandusky town by 
the Indians. When Gen. Broadhead heard this, he said Brady was 
an aspiring young man and had solicited the command. But on 
Brady’s arrival at Pittsburg, the General acknowledged that the 
Captain had accepted the command with much diffidence. 

Thus far I have followed the information of one who, I apprehend, 
had the best means of acquiring it, I now introduce an incident rela- 


brady’s adventures. 


271 


ted to me of this same expedition, by a relative of Capt. Brady, who 
had it from the Captain’s own mouth.—The respectability of the 
person who mentioned it to me, assures me of its correctness. 

A few days after Brady left Sandusky with his squaw prisoners, 
keeping a sharp look out in expectation of being pursued, and taking 
every precaution to avoid pursuit, such as keeping on the driest ridges 
and walking on logs whenever they suited his course, he found 
he was followed by Indians. His practised eye would occasionally 
discover in the distance, an Indian hopping to or from a tree, or 
other screen, and advancing on his trail. After being satisfied of the 
fact, he stated it to his men and told them no Indian could thus 
pursue him, after the precautions he had taken, without having a 
dog on his track. “ I will stop ” said Brady “ and shoot the dog 
and then we can get along better.” 

He selected the root of a tall chesnut tree which had fallen west¬ 
ward, for his place of ambush. He walked from the west end of the 
tree or log to the east, and sat down in the pit made by the raising 
of the root. He had not been long there when a small slut mounted 
the long at the west end and with her nose to the trunk approached 
him. Close behind her followed a plumed warrior. Brady had his 
choice. He preferred shooting the slut, which he did, she rolled off 
the log stone dead, and the warrior, with a loud whoop, sprung into 
the woods and disappeared. He was followed no further. 

Many of Captain Brady’s adventures occurred at periods of which 
no certainty as to dates can now be had. The following is of that 
class. 

His success as a partizan had acquired for him its usual results ;— 
approbation with some, and envy with others. Some of his brother 
officers censured the Commandant for affording him such frequent 
opportunities for honorable distinction.—At length open complaint 
was made, accompanied by a request, in the nature of a demand, 
that others should be permitted to share with Brady the perils and 
honors of the service, abroad from the fort. The General apprised 
Brady of what had passed, who readily acquiesced in the propriety 
of the proposed arrangement; and an opportunity was not long 
wanting for testing its efficiency. 

The Indians made an inroad into the Sewickly settlement, com¬ 
mitting the most barbarous murders, of men women and children ; 
stealing such property as was portable, and destroying all else. The 
alarm was brought to Pittsburg, and a party of soldiers under the 
command of the emulous officers, dispatched for the protection of 
the settlements, and chastisement of the foe. From this expedition 
Brady was, of course, excluded ; but the restraint was irksome to 
his feelings. 

The day after the detachment had marched, he solicited permis¬ 
sion from his commander, to take a small party for the purpose of 
“ catching the Indians ; ” but was refused. By dint of importunity, 
however, he at length wrung front him a reluctant consent, and the 



272 


brady’s adventures. 


command of jive men ; to this he added his pet Indian, and made 
hasty preparation. 

Instead of moving toward Sewickly, as the first detachment had 
done, he crossed the Allegheny at Pittsburg and proceeded up the 
river. Conjecturing that the Indians had descended that stream in 
canoes, till near the settlement, he was careful to examine the mouths 
of all creeks coming into it, particularly from the south east. At the 
mouth of Big Mahoning, about six miles above Kittanning, the 
canoes were seen drawn up to its western bank. He instantly re¬ 
treated down the river, and waited for night. As soon as it was 
dark, he made a raft, and crossed to the Kittanning side. He then 
proceeded up to the creek, and found that the Indians had, in the 
meantime, crossed the creek, as their canoes were now drawn to its 
upper or north eastern bank. 

The country on both sides of Mahoning, at its mouth, is rough 
and mountainous ; and the stream, which was then high, very rapid. 
Several ineffectual attempts were made to wade it, which they at 
length succeeded in doing, three or four miles above the canoes. 
Next a fire was made, their clothing dried, and arms inspected ; and 
the party moved toward the Indian camp, which was pitched on the 
second bank of the river. Brady placed his men at some distance, 
on the lower or first bank. 

The Indians had brought from Sewickly a stallion, which they 
had fettered and turned to pasture on the lower bank. An Indian, 
probably the owner, under the law of arms , came frequently down 
to him, and occasioned the party no little trouble.—The horse, too, 
seemed willing to keep their company, and it required considerable 
circumspection to avoid all intercourse with either. Brady became 
so provoked that he had a strong inclination to tomahawk the Indian, 
but his calmer judgment repudiated the act, as likely to put to haz¬ 
ard a more decisive and important achievement. 

At length the Indians seemed quiet, and the Captain determined 
to pay them a closer visit; and if in doing so, he met with a ludic¬ 
rous adventure, gentle reader, it is no fault of mine. 

He had got quite near their fires; his pet Indian had caught him 
by the hair and gave it a pluck, intimating the advice to retire, which 
he would not venture to whisper ; but finding Brady regardless of 
it, had crawled off; when the Captain, who was scanning their 
numbers, and the position of their guns, observed one throw off his 
blanket and rise to his feet. It was altogether impracticable for 
Brady to move, without being seen. He instantly decided to remain 
where he was and risk what might happen. He drew his head 
slowly beneath the brow of the bank, putting his forehead to the 
earth for concealment. His next sensation was that of warm water 
poured into the hollow of his neck, as from the spout of a teapot , 
which, trickling down his back over the chilled skin, produced a 
feeling that even his iron nerves could scarce master. He felt quietly 
for his tomahawk, and had it been about him, he probably would 
have used it; but he had divested himself even of that, when 


brady’s adventures. 


273 


preparing to approach the fires lest by striking against the stones 
or gravel, it might give alarm. He was compelled, therefore, 
“ nolens volens,” to submit to this very unpleasant operation, until 
it should please his warriorship to refrain; which he soon did, and 
returning to his place, wrapped himself up in his blanket, and com¬ 
posed himself for sleep as if nothing had happened. 

Brady returned to, and posted his men, and in the deepest silence 
all awaited the break of day. When it appeared, the Indians arose 
and stood around their fires; exulting, doubtless, in the scalps they 
had taken ; the plunder they had acquired ; and the injury they had 
inflicted on their enemies. Precarious joy; short-lived triumph ; 
the avenger of blood was beside them ! At a signal given, seven 
rifles cracked, and five Indians were dead ere they fell. Brady’s 
well known war cry was heard, his party was among them, and 
their guns (mostly empty) were all secured. The remaining Indians 
instantly fled and disappeared. One was pursued by the trace of 
his blood, which he seems to have succeeded in stanching. The 
pet Indian then imitated the cry of a young wolf, which was an¬ 
swered by the wounded man, and the pursuit again renewed. A 
second time the wolf cry was given and answered, and the pursuit 
continued into a windfall. Here he must have espied his pursuers, 
for he answered no more. Brady found his remains three weeks 
afterwards, being led to the place by ravens that were preying on 
the carcase. 

The horse was unfettered, the plunder gathered, and the party 
commenced their return to Pittsburg, most of them descending in 
the Indian canoes. 

Three days after their return, the first detachment came in. 
They reported that they had followed the Indians closely, but 
that the latter had got into their canoes and made their escape. 

The incursions of the Indians had become so frequent, and their 
outrages so alarming, that it was thought advisable to retaliate upon 
them the injuries of war, and carry into the country occupied by 
them, the same system of destructive warfare with which they had 
visited the settlements. For this purpose an adequate force was 
provided, under the immediate command of General Broadhead, the 
command of the advance guard of which was confided to Captain 
Brady. 

The troops proceeded up the Allegheny river, and had arrived at 
the flat of land near the mouth of Redbank creek, now known by 
the name of Brady’s Bend, without encountering an enemy. Brady 
and his rangers were some distance in front of the main body, as 
their duty required, when they suddenly discovered a war party of 
Indians approaching them. Relying on the strength of the main 
body, and its ability to force the Indians to retreat, and anticipating, 
as Napoleon did in the battle with the Mamelukes, that when driven 
back they would return upon the same route they had advanced on, 
Brady permitted them to proceed without hindrance, and hastened 



274 


brady’s adventures. 


to seize a narrow pass, higher up the river ; where the rocks, nearly 
perpendicular, approached the river, and where a few determined 
men might successfully combat superior numbers. 

In a short time the Indians encountered the main body under 
Broadhead, and were driven back. In full and swift retreat they 
pressed on to gain the pass between the rocks and the river, but it 
was occupied by their daring and relentless foes, Brady and his ran¬ 
gers, who failed not to pour into their flying columns a most 
destructive fire. 

“ At once there rose so wild a yell 
Within that dark and narrow dell, 

As all the fiends from heaven that fell, 

Had pealed the banner-cry of hell! 

Forth from the pass in tumult driven, 

Like chaff before the winds of heaven, 

The Indians appear; 

For life ! for life! their flight they ply— 

And shriek, and shout, and battle cry 
Are maddening in the rear.” 

Indeed I have been told by an officer of the American army, who 
Is no stranger to Indian battles, that Walter Scott’s description of 
the battle of “ Beal An Duine,” from which I have ventured to make 
the above extract, would suit very well for that of any battle with 
the Indians, by changing a few names, and substituting plumes for 
bonnets, bayonets for spears, &c. 

Be that as it may, the Indians on this occasion were again broken, 
routed, and forced to jump into the river. Many were killed on the 
bank, and many more in the stream. Our aged friend Cornplanter, 
chief of the Senecas, then a young man, saved himself by swimming, 
as did several others of the party. 

Alter they had crossed the river, Brady was standing on the bank 
wiping his rifle,—an Indian, exasperated at the unexpected defeat, 
and disgraceful retreat of his party, and supposing himself now safe 
from the well known and abhorred enemy of his race, commenced a 
species of conversation with him in broken English, which we call 
blackguarding .—Calling Brady and his men cowards, squaws, and 
the like;—and putting himself in such attitudes as he probably 
thought would be most expressive of his utter contempt of them. 
When the main army arrived, a canoe was manned, and Brady 
and a few men crossed to where the Indian had been seen. They 
found blood on the ground, and had followed it but a short distance 
till the Indian jumped up, struck his breast and said, “ I am a man.” 
It was Brady’s wish to take him prisoner, without doing him further 
harm. The Indian continuing to repeat, “lama man,”— 44 Yes,” 

said an Irishman who was along,— 44 By J-s you’re a purty 

boy”—and before Brady could arrest the blow, sunk his tomahawk 
into the Indian’s brain. 

The army moved onward, and after destroying all the Indians” 
corn, and ravaging the Kenjua flats, returned to Pittsburg. 


brady’s adventures. 




In No. 1 of these sketches it has been stated that Captain John 
Brady, the father of Captain Samuel, had been wounded at the battle 
of Brandywine; that his son John was also wounded there, (who 
was but a lad of sixteen at the time,) and, that in consequence of 
their wounds, both had permission to return to their home, which 
was on the west branch of Susquehanna. It was farther stated, 
that Capt. John Brady and one of his sons were killed by the In¬ 
dians, soon after Samuel had left home for Bedford or Pittsburg. 

Although not immediately connected with the personal adventures 
of Captain Samuel Brady, I propose giving a sketch of events on 
the Susquehanna, prior and up to the death of his father and 
brother. 

Those who read these sketches may perceive, from their nature 
and antiquity, that they are compiled from the statements, oral and 
written, of persons acquainted with the facts disclosed, either per¬ 
sonally or by hearsay. Allowance will be made, therefore, for the 
want of chronological order, observable throughout, seeing that I am 
dependent on different persons, residing in different parts of the 
country, for what I have been enabled to put forth. Some of these 
persons are old and infirm, and have particular facts more deeply 
registered in the memory than others of more seeming importance; 
and it requires inquiry and examination to elicit other facts to supply 
or correct the narrative ; and that all these have been hastily thrown 
together and published without even an examination of the proof 
sheet. 

The transactions on the Susquehanna have, it is true, this con¬ 
nexion with the biography of Capt. Samuel Brady, that, on hearing 
of the murder of his youngest brother, and that of his father, by the 
Indians there, he did, it is said, raise his hand on high and vow— 
“ Aided by Him who formed yonder sun and heavens, I will revenge 
the murder of my father and brother : nor while I live will I ever be 
at peace with the Indians, of any tribe.”—This exclamation, uttered 
in a moment of anguished feeling, the recital of his brother’s suffer¬ 
ings being fresh in his mind, ha9 been assigned as the principal 
cause of his daring and unparalleled courage and address in the va¬ 
rious conflicts he had with the Indians afterwards. 

This representation has rather obscured his character than other¬ 
wise. He has been considered a devoted man-killer, reckless of all 
sympathy, and destitute of all humanity towards the Indian race. 
This is by no means true. Brady, as I have been informed by one 
who became acquainted with him on the occasion of his being in¬ 
dicted for the murder of certain Indians in time of peace, was a gen¬ 
tlemanly, fine looking man, possessed of a noble heart, and intellect 
of a high order. His conduct on that occasion, when investigated, 
was found to be correct; and that he had used his influence, as far, 
probably, as was safe with an infuriated band, to protect the Indians 
with whose murder he was charged. But of this hereafter. 

Another cause than blind revenge might be assigned for that heroic 
devotedness of courage—that eagerness to solicit dangerous com- 
24 


276 


brady’s adventures. 


mands—that contempt for all that is allied to fear, by which he was 
distinguished. But it is of little moment now, further than to 
authorize the assertion that it was honorable in its origin, though 
unpropitious in its termination. 

After having perused our statement of the occurrences at Susque¬ 
hanna, and retaining in his mind the intimation contained in the 
above lines, the reader will be satisfied that the excitement which 
prompted the vow, was not of that savage character it has generally 
been supposed to bear. But that it was the unpremeditated excla¬ 
mation of one 

“ Upon whose ear the signal word 

Of strife and death was hourly breaking, 

Who slept with head upon the sword 

His fevered hand must grasp in waking.” 

When Captain John Brady left Shippensburg, he located himself 
at the Standing Stone, a celebrated Indian town at the confluence of 
the Standing Stone creek and the Juniata river; the present town 
of Huntingdon, in Huntingdon county, stands in part on the site of 
the Standing Stone.—From thence he removed to the west branch 
of Susquehanna, opposite the spot on which Lewisburg or Derrs- 
town, in Union county, stands. If I mistake not, the tract settled 
on by him, now belongs to George Kremer, Esq.—Derr had a small 
mill on the run that empties into the river below the town, and a 
trading house, from whence the Indians were supplied with powder, 
lead, tobacco and rum. In the commencement of the strife between 
the colonies and the mother country, Brady discovered that the 
Indians were likely to be tampered with by the British. The Sen¬ 
eca and Muncy tribes were in considerable force, and Pine and Ly¬ 
coming creeks were navigable almost to the State line for canoes.— 
Fort Augusta had been built upon the east side of the north branch, 
immediately wheredt connects with the west, about a mile above the 
present town of Sunbury. It was garrisoned by “ a fearless few,” 
and commanded by Captain, afterwards Major Hunter, a meritorious 
officer. He had under his command about fifty men. In the season 
for tillage some attention was paid to farming, but the women and 
children mostly resided in the fort, or were taken there on the 
slightest alarm. It was known that the Wyoming Flats were full 
of Indians, of the Delaware and Shamokin tribes.—The latter, since 
extinct, was then a feeble people, and under the protection of the 
Delawares. In this state of affairs Capt. John Brady suggested to 
his neighbours and comrades, under arms at Fort Augusta, the pro¬ 
priety of making a treaty with the Seneca and Muncy tribes; know¬ 
ing them to be at variance with the Delawares.—This course was 
approved of, and petitions sent on to the proper authorities praying 
the appointment of commissioners for the purpose of holding a 
treaty.—Commissioners were appointed, and Fort Augusta was 
designated as a place of conference ; and notice of that, and of the 
time fixed for the arrival of the commissioners, was directed to be 
given to the two tribes. Captain John Brady and two others were 


brady’s adventures. 


277 


selected by the people in the fort to seek the Senecas and Muncies 
and communicate to them the proposal. 

The Indians met the “ ambassadors” of the settlers, to wit, Capt. 
John Brady and his companions, in a very friendly manner : the 
chiefs listened with apparent pleasure to the proposal for a treaty, 
and after smoking the pipe of peace, and promising to attend at 
Fort Augusta on the appointed day, led our men out of their camp, 
and, shaking hands with them cordially, parted in seeming 
friendship. 

Brady feared to trust the friendship so warmly expressed, and 
took a different route in returning with his company from that they 
had gone, and arrived safe at home. 

On the day appointed for holding the treaty the Indians appeared, 
with their wives and children. There were about one hundred men, 
all warriors, and dressed in war costume. Care had been taken that 
the little fort should look as fierce as possible, and every man was 
on the alert. 

In former treaties the Indians had received large presents, and 
were expecting them here : but finding the fort too poor to give any 
thing of value, [and an Indian never trusts,] all efforts to form a 
treaty with them proved abortive. They left the fort, however, 
apparently in good humor, and well satisfied with their treatment, 
and taking to their canoes proceeded homeward. The remainder of 
the day was chiefly spent by the officers and people of the fort in 
devising means of protection against the anticipated attacks of the 
Indians. Late in the day, Brady thought of Derr’s trading house, 
and loreboding evil from that point, mounted a small mare he had at 
the fort, and crossing the north branch he rode with all possible 
speed. On his way home he saw the canoes of the Indians on the 
bank of the river near Derr’s. When near enough to observe the 
river, he saw the squaws exerting themselves to the utmost, at their 
paddles, to work canoes over to his side of the river ; and that when 
they landed, they made for thickets of shumach, which grew in 
abundance on his land to the height of a man’s head, and very thick 
upon the ground. He was not slow in conjecturing the cause. He 
rode on to where the squaws were landing and saw that they were 
conveying rifles, tomahawks and knives into the shumach thickets, 
and hiding them. He immediately jumped into a canoe and crossed 
to Derr’s trading house, where he found the Indians brutally drunk. 
He saw a barrel of rum standing on end before Derr’s door, with the 
head out. He instantly overset it, and spilled the rum, saying to 
Derr, “ My God, Frederick, what have you done ?” Derr replied, 
“ Dey dells me you gif urn no dreet town on de fort, so I dinks as I 
gif um one here, als he go home in bease.” 

One of the Indians, who saw the rum spilled, but was unable to 
prevent it, told Brady he would one day rue the spilling of that 
barrel. Being well acquainted with the Indian character, he knew 
death was the penalty of his offence, and was constantly on his 
guard for several years, 


278 


brady’s adventures. 


Next day the Indians started off. They did not soon attack the 
settlements, but carried arms for their allies, the English, in other 
parts. Meanwhile emigration to the west branch continued ; the 
settlement extended, and Freelyng’s, or Freelan’s Fort was built, 
near the mouth of Warrior Run, about eight miles above Derr’s 
trading house. 

Contrary to expectation, the tomahawk remained at rest for seve¬ 
ral j^ears on the Susquehanna. Fort Freelyng was the rallying 
point in cases of alarm. Spies were out in the wilderness and mar¬ 
gin of the settlements, and even ventured a great distance into the 
Indian country without discovering signs of hostility.—The cloud 
that for a while had threatened and then rolled away, was about to 
return, however, darker than before, and charged with destructive 
fury. 

One evening a scouting party came in who had seen signs of 
Indians making their way toward the Susquehanna. The neighbor¬ 
hood was alarmed, and all fled for safety to the fort. A council of 
war was held, and a decision made, that all the women and children 
should be sent down the river to Fort Augusta, immediately, and 
spies sent out to observe the approaching force. The spies soon 
returned with intelligence that the enemy were near two hundred 
strong, and that there were white men among them. 

Fort Freelyng was commanded by Captain Dougherty, (than 
whom no braver man ever lived,) who had under his command about 
sixty men. After hearing the force of the enemy, the officers agreed 
upon evacuating that fort, and retiring to Fort Augusta, where, on 
uniting the whole force of the country, it was their determination to 
make a last and desperate defence. The Indians had been seen 
skulking around the fort, and the men were preparing for a march, 
when an old tory , who was in the fort, exclaimed—“ Captain 
Dougherty, I always knew the continental troops would not fight.” 
Dougherty was a man of impetuous feeling: he instantly replied— 
“ You d—d old rascal, we will show you we can fight; and if the 
fort is betrayed, and I survive, I will sacrifice you.” 

The Indians attacked the fort early in the morning, on the upper 
side. On the lower was a kind of glade, covered over thickly with 
large bushes, from six to seven feet high, having a small path 
through to the river. The fire of the Indians was of no great 
account, as they chose to keep at a safe distance. The fire from 
the fort was well directed, by the best marksmen, and proved very 
galling. A British officer was seen busily engaged directing the 
Indians: but a lad in the fort taking deliberate aim at him, fired, and 
he was seen to fall—supposed to be killed or badly wounded. The 
attack was suspended from a little before sunset till the next morn¬ 
ing. The Indians during the night had hid themselves in the 
bushes in order to draw the men out of the fort, but finding the 
little band too circumspect for the snare, came again to the attack 
with a most tremendous yell. They finally succeeded in getting 
into the fort, when a dreadful massacre ensued. Captain Dougherty 


brady’s adventures. 


279 


kept his eye upon the old tory, and finding all was over, sent a 
bullet through him, with the imprecation—“ Damn the traitor!” 

Every man sold his life as dearly as possible; none escaped but 
Captain Dougherty and Samuel Brady, brother to Captain John 
Brady and uncle to Captain Samuel. They left the fort together, 
pursued by a host of Indians. The hazle bushes being so thick on 
the side of the fort at which they came out, it was impossible for the 
enemy to follow them. Capt. Dougherty, who was an uncommonly 
active man, could load his rifle whilst under cover of the brush, and 
when he heard the noise of an Indian he could leap high enough to 
see and fire upon him. Samuel Brady (known in his day as uncle 
Sam.) had made his way through the large thicket and came upon a 
plain below. He thought it best, as he was heard to say afterwards, 
to “ make his eternal escape .” 

He had already run a considerable distance, when on looking back 
he beheld two Indians in pursuit, one of them a large, dangerous 
looking fellow, the other of small stature. He renerved his speed, 
and was getting along pretty well, when his foot slipped into a hole, 
and he fell down. The large Indian was foremost and armed. But 
Brady had fallen with a loaded rifle in his hand, with which he shot 
the savage, who gave a wild yell and fell dead. The little warrior 
thinking, perhaps, there were more rifles about, wheeled and made for 
the fort. At the edge of the thicket it was his fortune to meet Capt. 
Dougherty, who split his skull with the butt of his rifle, and ran on. 
These two only, Dougherty and Brady, survived that day’s massa¬ 
cre, and brought the news to Fort Augusta. It may be supposed 
that that night was one of gloom and sorrow in the little fortress.— 
The reader can sketch the picture according to his own fancy. 

The massacre at Fort Freelyng cast a damp on the settlement at 
the West Branch, but the hardy settlers prepared for the worst, by 
such measures of precaution as their means afforded. The Indians, 
after committing some further depredations, and murdering some 
families in Buffalo Valley, retreated. The settlement progressed 
and had reached the Muncy Hills. A fort was built at the mouth of 
Muncy Creek, near where Pennsboro’ now stands, the command of 
which was given to Captain John Brady. 

Frequent skirmishes took place between the whites and Indians, 
who resumed their old practice of harrassing the settlers by dividing 
themselves into small squads; taking some prisoners, scalping others, 
and carrying away or destroying the cattle and moveable property of 
their victims.—Brady, it appears, left the fort for the regular service, 
prior to the battle of Brandywine. 

Shortly after the return from camp of Captain Brady and his son, 
a company of men formed for the purpose of aiding a friend to cut 
his oats, near the mouth of the Loyalsock Creek. James Brady, 
eon of Captain John, and a younger brother of Captain Samuel of 
the Rrangers, went along. According to a custom in those days, 
which was, that if no commissioned officer were present the com- 
24 * 



280 


brady’s adventures. 


pany selected a leader, whom they styled “ Captain,” and readily 
obeyed as such ; James was selected leader or Captain of this little 
band, of about twenty men. After arriving on the ground, they 
placed two sentinels at opposite sides of the field; the other sides 
having clear land around, were not thought to require any. The 
guns were all placed together at one side of the field, and the order 
was, that, in case of alarm, all were to run to the rifles. 

The first day, which was spent in cradling the oats, nothing re¬ 
markable happened ; during the night a strict watch was kept. The 
next day, in the evening, one of the sentinels fired, and cried “ In¬ 
dians. 1 ” The young Captain, without looking around for his men, 
Tan for his rifle. When near the guns he was fired upon by a white 
man , with a pistol. Happening to stumble over a sheaf of oats, he 
fell, and the ball missed him. The Indians, supposing him dead, 
ran to secure his scalp. He fell within reach of the guns, and 
seizing one, he shot the first Indian who approached him. He now 
discovered that his men had fled and left him to contend with the 
savages alone. Despair rendered him but the more determined to 
die gallantly. He caught another gun, and brought down the second 
Indian. They then rushed in upon him in numbers ; he was a stout, 
active man, and struggled with them for some time. At length one 
of them struck his tomahawk into his head.—He was stunned with 
the blow, and for a time, remained altogether powerless, yet, strange 
as it may seem, he retained his senses. They tore the scalp from 
his head as he lay in apparent death, and it was quite a trophy to 
them ; for he had long red hair. 

After they had scalped him, as he related afterwards, a little Indian 
was called and made to strike the tomahawk into his head in four 
separate places ; then leaving him for dead, they took the guns and 
fled to the woods. 

After coming to himself he attempted, between walking and creep¬ 
ing, to reach a little cabin, where was an old man who had been 
employed to cook for the working party. On hearing the report of 
the guns the old man had hid himself, but when he saw Brady 
return, he came to him. James begged the old man to fly to the 
fort, saying, “ The Indians will soon be back and will kill you.” 
The old man refused to leave him. Brady then requested to be 
taken down to the river, where he drank large quantifies of water. 
He still begged the old man to leave him, and save himself, but he 
would not.—He next directed his old friend to load the gun that was 
in the cabin, which was done, and put into his hands; he then lay 
down and appeared to sleep.—A noise was suddenly heard on the 
bank above them; he jumped to his feet and cocked the gun. It 
was soon discovered that the noise was made by some troops who 
had come from the fort on horseback in pursuit of the Indians. They 
carried the brave young “ Captain” to the fort, where he lived for 
five days. The first four days he was delirious ; on the fifth his 
reason returned, and he described the whole scene he had passed 
through, with great minuteness. He said the Indians were of the 


brady’s adventures. 


281 


Seneca tribe, and amongst them were two chiefs : that one of those 
two chiefs was a very large man, and by the description he was 
supposed to be Cornplanter ; the other he personally knew to be 
the celebrated chief “ Bald Eagle,” from whom certain creeks, and 
the Ridge so called, in Centre and Huntingdon counties, have their 
name. “ The Bald Eagle’s nest,” as his camp was called, was for 
part of the year at the mouth of the creek called “ Bald Eagle,” 
which empties into the Susquehanna near the Great Island, and about 
thirty miles, by water, from the scene of action. 

On the evening of the fifth day, the young Captain died, deeply 
regretted by all within the fort. Vengeance, “ not loud but deep,” 
w'as breathed against the Bald Eagle; but he laughed it to scorn till 
the fatal day at Brady’s Bend, on the Allegheny. 

War with the Indians again broke out all along the frontiers, and 
men of activity and courage were sent to the forts on the West 
Branch, and every precaution taken for the security of the settlements. 
It became necessary to go up the river some distance to procure 
supplies for the fort, and Captain John Brady, taking with him a 
wagon team, and guard, went himself and procured w r hat could be 
had ; on his return, in the afternoon, riding a fine mare, and within 
a short distance of the fort, where the road forked, and being some 
distance behind the team and guard, and in conversation with a man 
named Peter Smith, he recommended it to Smith not to take the 
road the wagon had done, but the other, as it was shorter. They 
travelled on together till they came near a run where the same road 
joined. Brady observed “ this would be a good place for Indians to 
secrete themselves.”—Smith said, “ Yes.” That instant three rifles 
cracked and Brady fell; the mare ran past Smith who threw himself 
on her, and was carried in a few seconds to the fort. The people 
in the fort had heard the rifles, and seeing Smith on the mare coming 
at full speed, all ran to ask for Captain Brady, his wife along, or 
rather before the rest. To their question, where is Captain Brady ? 
Smith replied, “ In Heaven, or Hell, or on his way to Tioga,”— 
meaning, he was either dead or a prisoner to the Indians. 

The men in the fort ran to the spot; the wagon guard had also 
been attracted by the firing. They found the Captain lying on the 
road, his scalp taken off, his rifle gone, but the Indians were in such 
haste they had not taken either his watch or his shot-pouch. 

Samuel Brady, Captain of the Rangers, or Spies, for the people 
called him by both npmes, was in Pittsburg when he heard of his 
father’s death, as mentioned before. 

It chanced that the party of Indians, one hundred strong, he 
encountered at Brady’s Bend, on the Allegheny,—mentioned in 
No. 5 } —several years after the death of his father and his brother 
James, was a war party of Senecas, under the command of Corn- 
planter, on their march to the Bald Eagle’s nest; and that the Bald 
Eagle himselt was in company with them. 

Captain Samuel Brady recognized the Bald Eagle on that day in 
the pass, and fired at him, but with what effect he knew not till after- 


282 


BRADY SADVENTURES. 


wards. When the Battle was over he searched for the Eagle’s body 
and found it: a ball had pierced his heart; and the blood of the 
young “Captain” at Loyalsock, was found to have been fatally 
avenged by the hand of his brother, on the bank of the Allegheny. 


Captain Brady had returned from Sandusky, perhaps a week, when 
he was observed one evening by a man of the name of Phouts, sit¬ 
ting in a solitary part of the fort, apparently absorbed in thought. 
Phouts approached him unregarded, and was pained to the bottom of 
his. honest heart to perceive that the countenance of this honoured 
Captain bore traces of deep care, and even melancholy. He accosted 
him, however, in the best English he had, and soothingly said. 
“ Gabtain, was ails you.”—Brady looked at him for a short time with¬ 
out speaking; then resuming his usual equanimity, replied, I have 
been thinking about the red skins, and it is my opinion there are 
some above us on the river. I have a mind to pay them a visit. 
Now if I get permission from the General to do so, will you go 
along? Phouts was a stout thick Duchman of uncommon strength 
and activity. He was also well acquainted with the woods. When 
Brady had ceased speaking, Phouts raised himself on tiptoe, and 
bringing his heels hard down on the ground, by way of emphasis, 
his eyes full of fire, said, “ By dunder und lightnin, I would rader 
go mit you, Gabtain, as to any of te finest weddins in tis guntry.”— 
Brady told him to keep quiet and say nothing about it, as no man in 
the fort must know any thing of the expedition except General 
Broadhead—bidding Phouts call at his tent in an hour. He then 
went to the General’s quarters, whom he found reading. After the 
usual topics were discussed, Brady proposed for consideration, his 
project of ascending the Allegheny, with but one man in company ; 
stating his reasons for apprehending a descent from that quarter by 
the Indians. The General gave his consent, at parting took him by 
the hand in a friendly manner, advising him how to proceed, and 
charging him particularly to be careful of his own life, and that of 
the men or man whom he might select to accompany him ; so affec¬ 
tionate were the General’s admonitions, and so great the emotion he 
displayed, that Brady left him with tears in his eyes , and repaired to 
his tent, where he found Phouts in deep conversation with one of 
his pet Indians. 

He told Phouts of his success with the General, and that, as it 
was early in the light of the moon, they must get ready and be off 
betimes. 

They immediately set about cleaning their guns, preparing their 
ammunition, and having secured a small quantity of salt, they lay 
down together, and slept soundly until about two hours before day 
break. Brady awoke first, and stirring Phouts, each took down tho 
“ deadly rifle,” and whilst all but the sentinels were wrapt in sleep, 
they left the little fort, and in a short time found themselves deep 
buried in the forest. That day they marched through woods never 
traversed by either of them before; following the general course of 



Brady’s ANVENTURE3. 


283 


the river they reached a small creek* that put in from the Pittsburg 
side; it was near night when they got there, and having no provision, 
they concluded to remain there all night. 

Phouts struck fire, and after having kindled a little, they covered 
it up with leaves and brush, to keep it in. They then proceeded up 
the creek to look for game. About a mile from the mouth of the 
creek, a run comes into it, upon this run was a lick apparently much 
frequented by deer.—They placed themselves in readiness, and in a 
short time two deer came in; Phouts shot one, which they skinned 
and carried over to their fire, and during the night jerked a great part 
of it. In the morning they took what they could carry of jerk , and 
hung the remainder on a small tree, in the skin, intending, if they 
were spared to return, to call for it on their way homeward. 

Next morning they started early and travelled hard all day; near 
evening they espied a number of crows hovering over the tops of the 
trees, near the bank of the river. Brady told Phouts that there were 
Indians in the neighbourhood, or else the men who were expected 
from Susquehanna at Pittsburg were there encamped, or had heen 
some time before. 

Phouts was anxious to go down and see, but Brady forbade him ; 
telling him at the same time, “We must secrete ourselves till after 
night, when fires will be made by them, be they whom they may.” 
Accordingly they hid themselves amongst fallen timber, and remain¬ 
ed so till about ten o’clock at night. But even then they could still 
see no fire. Brady concluded there must be a hill or thick woods 
between him and where the crows were seen, and decided on leaving 
his hiding place to ascertain the fact; Phouts accompanied him. 
They walked with the utmost caution down towards the river bank, 
and had went about two hundred yards, when they observed the 
twinkling }f a fire, at some distance on their right. They at first 
thought the river made a very short bend, but on proceeding further 
they discovered that it was a fork or branch of the river, probably 
the Kiskeminetas. Brady desired Phouts to stay where he was, 
intending to go himself to the fire, and see who was there; but 
Phouls refused, saying, “ no, by George, I vill see too.”—They 
approached the fire together, but with the utmost care; and from 
appearances judged it to be an Indian encampment, much too large 
to be attacked by them. 

Having resolved to ascertain the number of the enemy, the Captain 
of the Spies and his brave comrade went close up to the fire, and 
discovered an old Indian sitting beside a tree near the fire, either 
inending or making a pair of moccasins. 

Phouts, who never thought of danger, was for shooting the Indian 
immediately; but Brady prevented him. After examining carefully 
around the camp, he was of opinion that the number by which it 
was made had been large, but that they were principally absent. 

•Probably Puckcty Creek, which empties into the Allegheny at Logan’s Ferry. 



284 


brady’s adventures. 


He determined on knowing more in the morning; and forcing Phouts 
away with him, who was bent on killing the old Indian, he retired 
a short distance into the woods to await the approach of day. As 
soon as it appeared they returned to the camp again, but saw no 
living thing, except the old Indian, a dog and a horse. 

Brady wished to see the country around the camp, and understand 
its features better ; for this purpose he kept at some distance from it, 
and examined about, till he got on the river above it.—Here he found 
a large trail of Indians, who had gone up the Allegheny ; to his 
judgment it appeared to have been made one or two days before. 
Upon seeing this he concluded on going back to the camp, and taking 
the old Indian prisoner. 

Supposing the old savage to have arms about him, and not wish¬ 
ing to run the risk of the alarm the report of a rifle might create, if 
Indians were in the neighborhood, Brady determined to seize the 
old fellow single handed, without doing him further “scathe,” and 
carry him off to Pittsburg. With this view both crept toward the 
camp again very cautiously. When they came so near as to perceive 
him, the Indian was lying on his back, with his head towards them. 

Brady ordered Phouts to remain where he was, and not to fire at 
all unless the dog should attempt to assist his master. In that case 
he was to shoot the dog, but by no means to hurt the Indian. The 
plan being arranged, Brady dropped his rifle, and, tomahawk in 
hand, silently crept towards the “ old man of the woods,” till within 
a few feet, then raising himself up, he made a spring like a Panther, 
and with a yell that awakened the echoes round, seized the Indian, 
hard and fast by the throat. The old man struggled a little at first, 
but Brady’s was the gripe of a lion ; holding his tomahawk over the 
head of his prisoner, he bade him surrender, as he valued his life. 
The dog behaved very civilly ; he merely growled a little. Phouts 
came up and they tied their prisoner.—On examining the camp they 
found nothing of value except some powder and lead, which they 
threw into the river. When the Indian learned that he was to be 
taken to Pittsburg, and would be kindly treated, he shewed them a 
canoe, which they stepped into with their prisoner and his dog, and 
were soon afloat on the smooth bosom of the Allegheny. 

They paddled swiftly along for the purpose of reaching the mouth 
of the run on which they had encamped coming up; for Brady had 
left his wiping rod there. It was late when they got to the creek’s 
mouth. They landed, made a fire, and all laid down to sleep. 

As soon as day light appeared, the Captain started to where their 
jerk was hanging, leaving Phouts in charge of the prisoner and his 
canoe. He had not left the camp long, till the Indian complained 
to Phouts that the cords upon his wrist hurt him. He had probably 
discovered that in Phout’s composition there was a much larger 
proportion of kindness than of fear. The Dutchman at once took 
off the cords, and the Indian was, or pretended to be, very grateful. 

Phouts was busied with something else in a minute, and had left 
his gun standing by a tree. The moment the Indian saw that the 


brady’s adventures. 


285 


eye of the other was not upon him, he sprung to the tree, seized 
the gun, and the first Phouts knew was that it was cocked, and at 
his breast, whereupon he let out a most magnificent tout and jump¬ 
ed at the Indian. But the trigger was pulled, and the bullet whistled 
past him, taking with it a part of his shot-pouch belt. One stroke 
of the Dutchman s tomahawk settled the Indian forever, and nearly 
severed the head from his body. 

Brady heard the report of the rifle, and the yell of Phouts ; and 
supposing all was not right, ran instantly to the spot, where he 
found the latter sitting on the body of the Indian, examining the 
rent in his shot-pouch belt. “ In the name o{ Heaven,’-’ said Brady, 
“ what have you done “ Yust look, Gabtan,” said the fearless 

Dutchman, “ vas dis d-d black b-h vas apout—holding up 

to view the hole in his belt.—He then related what has been stated 
with respect to his untying the Indian, and the attempt of the latter 
to kill him.—They then took off the scalp of the Indian, got their 
canoe, took in the Indian’s dog, and returned to Pittsburg, the fourth 
day after their departure. 

The Captain related to the General what he had seen, and gave 
it as his opinion, that the Indians whose camp he had discovered, 
were about making an attack upon the Susquehanna settlement.— 
The General was ol the same opinion, and was much affected by 
the information ; for he had just made a requisition upon that coun¬ 
try for men, and had been expecting them on every day. He now 
feared that the Indians would either draw them into an ambuscade 
and cut them off, or fall upon their families, rendered defenceless by 
their absence. 


The injuries inflicted on the Indians by the troops under General 
Broadhead quieted the country for some time; he kept spies out, 
however, for the purpose of watching their motions, and guarding 
against sudden attacks on the settlements. One of these parties, 
under the command of Captain Brady, had the French creek country 
assigned as their field of duty. 

The Captain had reached the waters of Slippery Rock, a branch 
of Beaver, without seeing any signs of Indians ; here, however, he 
came on an Indian trail in the evening, which he followed till dark 
without overtaking the Indians. The next morning he renewed the 
pursuit and overtook them while they were engaged at their morn¬ 
ing meal. 

Unfortunately for him, another party of Indians were in his rear ; 
they had fallen upon his trail, and pursued him doubtless with as 
much ardour as characterized his pursuit, and at the moment he 
fired upon the Indians in his front, he was, in turn, fired upon by 
those in his rear. He was now between two fires, and vastly out¬ 
numbered. Two of his men fell, his tomahawk was shot from his 
side, and the battle yell was given by the party in his rear, and 
loudly returned and repeated by those in his front. 

There was no time for hesitation, no safely in delay, no chance of 



286 


brady’s adventures. 


successful defence in their present position ; the brave Captain and 
his Rangers had to flee before their enemies, who pressed on their 
flying footsteps with no lagging speed. 

Brady ran towards the creek. He was known by many, if not 
all of them, and many and deep were the scores to be settled between 
him and them. They knew the country well; he did not; and 
from his running towards the creek they were certain of taking him 
prisoner. The creek was, for a long distance above and below the 
point he was approaching, washed in its channel to a great depth. 
In the certain expectation of catching him there, the private soldiers 
of his party were disregarded, and throwing down their guns, and 
drawing their tomahawks, all pressed forward to seize their victim. 

Quick of eye, fearless of heart, and determined never to be a cap¬ 
tive to the Indians, Brady comprehended their object and his only 
chance of escape the moment he saw the creek; and by one mighty 
effort of courage and activity, defeated the one and effected the other. 
He sprang across the abyss of waters, and stood, rifle in hand, on 
the opposite bank, in safety. “ As quick as lightning,” says my 
informant, “ his rifle was primed, for it was his invariable practice 
to prime first; the next minute the powder-horn was at the gun’s 
muzzle, when, as he was in this act, a large Indian who had been 
foremost in pursuit, came to the opposite bank, and with the manli¬ 
ness of a generous foe, who scorns to undervalue the qualities of an 
enemy, said in a loud voice, and tolerable English, ‘ Blady make 
good jump.”’ 

It may indeed be doubted whether the compliment was uttered in 
derision, for the moment he had said so he took to his heels, and as 
if fearful of the return it might merit, ran as crooked as a worm 
fence: sometims leaping high, at others suddenly squatting down, 
he appeared no way certain that Brady would not answer from the 
mouth of his rifle, but the rifle was not yet loaded. 

The Captain was at the place afterwards, and ascertained that his 
leap was about twenty-three feet, and that the water was twenty 
feet deep. 

Brady’s next effort was to gather up his men ; they had a place 
designated at which to meet in case they should happen to be sepa¬ 
rated ; and thither he went and found the other three. They imme¬ 
diately commenced their homeward march, and returned to Pittsburg 
about half defeated. Three Indians had been seen to fall from the 
fire they gave them at breakfast. 


The Indians did not return that season to do any injury to the 
whites, and early that fall moved off to their friends, the British, 
who had to keep them all winter, their corn having been destroyed 
by Broadhead. 

When the General found the Indians were gone, at the suggestion 
of Brady, three companies were ordered out, with a sufficient num¬ 
ber of pack-horses, to kill game for the supply of the garrison. These- 
companies were respectively commanded by Captains Harrison, 



brady’s adventures. 


2S7 


Springer, and Brady. Game was very plenty, for neither whites 
nor Indians ventured to hunt, and great quantities were put up. 

In putting up his tent, Captain Brady’s tomahawk had slipped 
and cut his knee, by which he was lamed for some time. This 
occasioned him to remain at the tents until he got well, which affor¬ 
ded him the opportunity of witnessing some of the peculiar super¬ 
stitions of his Indian allies, for he had his Indians and their families 
along. 

One of these Indians had assumed the name of Wilson. The 
Captain was lying in his tent one afternoon, and observed his man 
Wilson coming home in a great hurry, and that as he met his squaw 
he gave her a kick, without saying a word, and began to unbrcech 
his gun. The squaw went away, and returned soon after, with 
some roots, which she had gathered ; which, after washing them 
clean, she put into a kettle to boil. While boiling, Wilson corked 
up the muzzle of his gun and stuck the breech into the kettle, and 
continued it there until the plug flew out of the muzzle. He then took 
it out and put it into the stock.—Brady knowing the Indians were 
very “ superstitious ” as we call it, did not speak to him until he 
saw him wiping his gun. He then called to him, and asked what 
was the matter. Wilson came up to the Captain and said, in reply, 
that his gun had been very sick, that she could not shoot; he had 
been just giving her a vomit, and she was now' well. Whether the 
vomit helped the gun, or only strengthened Wilson’s nerves, the 
Captain could not tell, but he avered that Wilson killed ten deer the 
next day. 

25 
















SKETCH 

OF THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 

€ o 1. DAN I El, BOONE. 


It is much to be regretted, that the materials for a sketch of 
Boone are so scanty. He has left us a brief account of his adven¬ 
tures, but they are rather such as one would require for the compo¬ 
sition of an epitaph, than of a biography. The leading incidents 
are mentioned in a general way, and there are some gaudy and am¬ 
bitious sketches of scenery which swell the bulk of the piece, without 
either pleasing the imagination or gratifying the curiosity. It would 
seem that the brief notes of the plain old woodsman, had been com¬ 
mitted to some young sciolist in literature, who thought that flashy 
description could atone for barrenness of incident. A general sum¬ 
mary of remarkable events, neither excites nor gratifies curiosity, 
like a minute detail of all the circumstances connected with them. 
This trait, so essential to the interest of narratives, and of which, 
perhaps, the most splendid example in existence has been given in 
Mr. Cooper’s “ Last of the Mohicans,” is deplorably wanting in 
most of the materials to which we have had access. A novelist 
may fill up the blank from his own imagination ; but a writer who 
professes to adhere to truth, is fettered down to the record before him. 
If, therefore, in the following details, we should be found guilty of 
the unpardonable sin of dulness, we hope that at least a portion of 
the blame will fall upon the scantiness of the materials. 

Of Boone’s early youth, nothing is known. He has modestly 
forborne to say any thing of himself, except so far as he is connected 
with the settlement of Keutucky. He was born in Virginia, but 
instigated by that roving spirit which distinguished him throughout 
life, he emigrated at an early period to North Carolina, and lived, 
until his fourteenth year, upon the banks of the Yadkin. In 1767, 
Findley* returned from his adventurous journey, and brought with 
him a report of a large tract of fertile country, totally unoccupied, 
and abounding in every variety of game, from the beaver to the 
buffalo. To a man like Boone, fond of hunting, and naturally 

* Findley is said to have been the first white man who ever visited Kentucky,— 
but of him nothing is known save the simple fact that he did visit Kentucky— 
first alone, and afterwards in company with Boone. 


290 


BOONE. 


attached to a roving and adventurous life, such a scene presented 
irresistable charms. Accordingly, in 1769, he left his family upon 
the Yadkin, and in company with five others, of whom Findley 
was one, he moved in a western direction, being determined 
to explore that country of which he had heard so favourable an 
account. 

On the 7th of June, they reached Red river, and from a neigh¬ 
bouring eminence, were enabled to survey the vast plain of Ken¬ 
tucky. Here they built a cabin, in order to afford them a shelter 
from the rain, which had fallen in immense quantities on their march, 
and remained in a great measure stationary until December, killing 
a great quantity of game immediately around them. Immense herds 
of buffalo ranged through the forest in every direction, feeding 
upon the leaves of the cane or the rich and spontaneous fields of 
clover. 

On the 22d of December, Boone and John Stuart, one of his com¬ 
panions, left their encampment, and following one of the numerous 
paths which the buffalo had made through the cane, they plunged 
boldly into the interior of the forest. They had as yet seen no 
Indians, and the country had been reported as totally uninhabited. 
This was true in a strict sense, for although the southern and north¬ 
western tribes were in the habit of hunting here as upon neutral 
ground, yet not a single wigwam had been erected, nor did the land 
bear the slightest mark of having ever been cultivated. The differ¬ 
ent tribes would fall in with each other, and from the fierce conflicts 
which generally followed these casual rencontres, the country had 
been known among them by the name of “ the dark and bloody 
ground! ” The two adventurers soon learned the additioual danger 
to which they were exposed. While roving carelessly from cane- 
brake to canebrake, and admiring the rank growth of vegetation, and 
the variety of timber which marked the fertility of the soil, they 
were suddenly alarmed by the appearance of a party of Indians, who, 
springing from their place ol concealment, rushed upon them with a 
rapidity which rendered escape impossible. They were almost 
instantly seized, disarmed and made prisoners. Their feelings may 
be readily imagined. They were in the hands of an enemy who 
knew no alternative between adoption and torture, and the numbers 
and fleetness of their captors, rendered escape by open means im¬ 
possible, while their jealous vigilance seemed equally fatal to any 
secret attempt. Boone, however, was possessed of a temper admi¬ 
rably adapted to the circumstances in which he was placed. Of a 
cold and saturnine, rather than an ardent disposition, he was never 
either so much elevated by good fortune or deoressed by bad, as to 
loose for a moment the full possession of all his faculties. He saw 
that immediate escape was impossible, but he encouraged his com¬ 
panion, and constrained himself to follow the Indians in all their 
excursions, with so calm and contented an air, that their vigilance 
insensibly began to relax. 

On the seventh evening of their captivity, they encamped in a 


BOONE. 


291 


thick canebrake, and, having built a large fire, lay down to rest.— 
The party whose duty it was to watch, were weary and negligent, 
and about midnight Boone, who had not closed an eye, ascertained 
from the deep breathing all around him, that the whole party, inclu¬ 
ding Stuart, was in a deep sleep. Gently and gradually extricating 
himself from the Indians who lay around him, he walked cautiously 
to the spot where Stuart lay, and having succeeded in awakening 
him, without alarming the rest, he briefly informed him of his 
determination, and exhorted him to arise, make no noise, and follow 
him. Stuart, although ignorant of the design, and suddenly roused 
from sleep, fortunately obeyed with equal silence and celerity, and 
within a few minutes they were beyond hearing. Rapidly travers¬ 
ing the forest, by the light ol the stars and the barks of the trees, 
they ascertained the direction in which the camp lay, but upon 
reaching it on the next day, to their great grief, they found it plun¬ 
dered and deserted, with nothing remaining to show the fate of their 
companions : and even to the day of his death, Boone knew not 
whether they had been killed or taken, or had voluntarily abandoned 
their cabin and returned. Here in a few days they were accidentally 
joined by Boone’s brother and another man, who had followed them 
from Carolina, and fortunately stumbled upon their camp. This 
accidental meeting in the bosom of a vast wilderness, gave great 
relief to the two brothers, although their joy was soon overcast. 

Boone and Stuart, in a second excursion, were again pursued by 
savages, and Stuart was shot and scalped, while Boone fortunately 
escaped. As usual, he has not mentioned particulars, but barely 
stated the event. Within a few days they sustained another calam¬ 
ity, if possible still more distressing. Their only remaining com¬ 
panion was benighted in a hunting excursion, and while encamped 
in the woods alone, was attacked and devoured by the wolves. 

The two brothers were thus left in the wilderness alone, separated 
by several hundred miles from home, surrounded by hostile Indians, 
and destitute of every thing but their rifles. After having had such 
melancholy experience of the dangers to which they were exposed, 
we would naturally suppose that their fortitude would have given 
way, and that they would instantly have returned to the settlements. 
But the most remarkable feature in Boone’s character was a calm 
and cold equanimity, which rarely rose to enthusiasm, and never 
sunk to despondency. His courage undervalued the danger to which 
he was exposed, and his presence of mind, which never forsook 
him, enabled him, on all occasions, to take the best means of avoid¬ 
ing it. The wilderness, with all its dangers and privations, had a 
charm for him, which is scarcely conceivable by one brought up in 
a city ; and he determined to remain alone, whilst his brother 
returned to Carolina for an additional supply of ammunition, as their 
original supply was nearly exhausted. His situation we should now 
suppose in the highest degree gloomy and dispiriting. The dangers 
which attended his brother on his return were nearly equal to his 
own: and each had left a wife and children, which Boone acknow- 
25* 


292 


BOONE. 


ledged cost him many an anxious thought. But the wild and soli¬ 
tary grandeur of the country around him, where not a tree had been 
cut, nor a house erected, was to him an inexhaustible source of 
admiration and delight; and he says himself, that some of the most 
rapturous moments of his life were spent in those lonely rambles. 
The utmost caution was necessary to avoid the savages, and scarcely 
less to escape the ravenous hunger of the wolves that prowled 
nightly around him in immense numbers. He was compelled fre¬ 
quently to shift his lodging, and by undoubted signs, saw that the 
Indians had repeatedly visited his hut during his absence. He 
sometimes lay in canebrakes, without fire, and heard the yell of the 
Indians around him. Fortunately, however, he never encountered 
them. 

On the 27th of July, 1770, his brother returned with a supply of 
ammunition ; and with a hardihood which appears almost incredible, 
they ranged through the country in every direction, and without 
injury, until March, 1771. They then returned to North Carolina, 
where Daniel rejoined his family, after an absence of three years, 
during nearly the whole of which time he had never tasted bread or 
salt, nor seen the face of a single white man, with the exception o i 
his brother, and the two friends who had been killed. He here de¬ 
termined to sell his farm and remove with his family to the wilder¬ 
ness of Kentucky—an astonishing instance of hardihood, and we 
should even say indifference to his family, if it were not that his 
character has uniformly been represented as mild and humane, as it 
was bold and fearless. 

Accordingly, on the 25th of September, 1771, having disposed of 
all the property which he could not take with him, he took leave of 
his friends and commenced his journey to the west. A number of 
milch cows and horses, laden with a few necessary household uten¬ 
sils, formed the whole of his baggage. His wife and children were 
mounted on horseback and accompanied him, every one regarding 
them as devoted to destruction. In Powel’s valley, they were 
joined by five more families and forty men well armed. Encouraged 
by this accession of strength, they advanced with additional confi¬ 
dence, but had soon a severe warning of the further dangers which 
awaited them. When near Cumberland mountain, their rear was 
suddenly attacked with great fury by a scouting party of Indians, 
and thrown into considerable confusion. The party, however, soon 
rallied, and being accustomed to Indian warfare, returned the fire 
with such spirit and effect, that the Indians were repulsed with 
slaughter. Their own loss, however, had been severe. Six men 
were killed upon the spot, and one wounded. Among the killed 
was Boone’s eldest son—to the unspeakable affliction of his family. 
The disorder and grief occasioned by this rough reception, seems to 
have affected the emigrants deeply, as they instantly retraced their 
steps to the settlements on Clinch river, forty miles from the scene 
of action. Here they remained until June, 1774, probably at the 
request of the women, who must have been greatly alarmed at the 


BOONE. 


293 


prospect of plunging more deeply into a country, upon the skirts of 
which they had witnessed so keen and bloody a conflict. 

At this time Boone, at the request of Governor Dunmore, of Vir¬ 
ginia, conducted a number of surveyors to the falls of Ohio, a dis¬ 
tance of eight hundred miles. Of the incidents of this journey, we 
have no record whatever. After his return, he was engaged under 
Dunmore, until 1775, in several affairs with the Indians, and at the 
solicitation of some gentlemen of North Carolina, he attended at a 
treaty with the Cherokees, for the purpose of purchasing the lands 
south of Kentucky river. With his usual brevity, Boone has omit¬ 
ted to inform us of the particulars of this conference, or of the parti¬ 
cular character of the business upon which he was sent. By the 
aid of Mr. Marshall’s valuable history, however, we are enabled to 
supply this silence—at least with regard to the latter circumstance. 
It seems that the Cherokees living within the chartered limits of the 
State of North Carolina, claimed all the land south of the Kentucky 
as far as Tennessee river. That Col. Richard Henderson and some 
other gentlemen, animated by the glowing description of the fertility 
of the soil, which Boone and his brother had given upon their return, 
determined to purchase the whole of this immense tract from the 
Cherokees, and employ Boone as their agent. The Cherokees 
gladly parted with an empty title, for a solid, although moderate 
recompense, and Henderson and his friends instantly prepared to 
take possession, relying upon the validity of their deed from the 
Indians. Unfortunately, however, for the success of these specula¬ 
tors, Kentucky lay within the limits of Virginia, according to the 
old charter of King James, and that state accordingly claimed for 
herself solely the privilege of purchasing the Indian title to lands 
lying within her own limits. She lost no time, therefore, in pro¬ 
nouncing the treaty of Henderson null and void, as it regarded his 
own title —although by rather an exceptionable process of reasoning, 
they determined that it was obligatory upon the Indians, so far as 
regarded the extinction of their title. Whether or not the reasoning 
was good, I cannot pretend to say—but supported as it was by the 
authority of a powerful State, it was made good , and Henderson’s 
golden dreams completely vanished. He and his associates, how¬ 
ever, received a liberal grant of land lying on Green river, as a com¬ 
pensation for the expense and dangef which they had incurred in 
prosecuting their settlement. 

It was under the auspices of Henderson, that Boone’s next visit to 
Kentucky was made. Leaving his family on Clinch river, he sat 
out at the head of a few men, to mark out a road for the pack horses 
or wagons of Henderson’s party. This laborious and dangerous 
duty he executed with his usual patient fortitude, until he came 
within fifteen miles of the spot where Boonsborough afterwards was 
built. Here, on the 22nd of March, his small party was attacked 
by the Indians, and suffered a loss of four men killed and wounded. 
The Indians, although repulsed with loss in this affair, renewed the 
attack with equal fury on the next day, and killed and wounded five 


294 


BOONE. 


more of his party. On the 1st of April, the survivors began to build 
a small fort on the Kentucky river, afterwards called Boonsborough, 
and on the 4th, they were again attacked by the Indians, and lost 
another man. Notwithstanding the harrassing attacks to which 
they were constantly exposed, (for the Indians seemed enraged to 
madness at the prospect of their building houses on their hunting 
ground,) the work was prosecuted with indefatigable diligence, and 
on the 14th was completed. 

Boone instantly returned to Clinch river for his family, determined 
to bring them with him at every risk. This was done as soon as 
the journey could be performed, and Mrs. Boone and her daughters 
were the first white women who stood upon the banks of the Ken¬ 
tucky river, as Boone himself had been the first whiteman whoever 
built a cabin upon the borders of the State. The first house, how¬ 
ever, which ever stood in the interior of Kentucky, was erected at 
Harrodsburgn, in the year 1774, by James Harrod, who conducted 
to this place a party of hunters from the banks of the Monongahela. 
This place was, therefore, a few months older than Boonsborough. 
Both soon became distinguised, as the only places in which hunters 
and surveyors could find security from the fury of the Indians. 

Within a few weeks after the arrival of Mrs. Boone and her 
daughters, the infant colony was reinforced by three more families, 
at the head of which were Mrs. McGary, Mrs. Hogan and Mrs. 
Denton. Boonsborough, however, was the central object of Indian 
hostilities, and scarcely had his family become domesticated in their 
new possession, when they were suddenly attacked by a party of 
Indians, and lost one of their garrison. This was on the 24th of 
December, 1775. 

In the following July, however, a much more alarming incident 
occurred. One of his daughters, in company with a Miss Calloway, 
were amusing themselves in the immediate neighborhood of the fort, 
when a party of Indians suddenly rushed out of a canebrake, and 
intercepting their return took them prisoners. The screams of the 
terrified girls quickly alarmed the family. The small garrison was 
dispersed in their usual occupations ; but Boone hastily collected a 
small party of eight men, and pursued the enemy. So much time, 
however, had been lost, that the Indians had got several miles the 
start of them. The pursuit was urged through the night with great 
keenness, by woodsmen capable of following a trail at all times, and 
on the following day they came up with them. The attack was so 
sudden and furious, that the Indians were driven from the ground 
before they had leisure to tomahawk their prisoners, and the girls 
werejrecovered without having sustained any other injury than 
excessive fright and fatigue. Nothing but a barren outline of this 
interesting occurrence has been given. We know nothing of the 
conduct of the Indians to their captives, or of the situation of the 
young ladies during the short engagement, and cannot venture to fill 
up the outline from imagination. The Indians lost two men, while 
Boone’s party was uninjured. 


BOONE. 


295 


From this time until the 15th of April, 1777, the garrison was 
incessantly harrassed by flying parties of Indians. While ploughing 
their corn, they were waylaid and shot; while hunting, they °\vere 
chased and fired upon; and some times a solitary Indian would creep 
up near the fort, in the night, and fire upon the first of the garrison 
who appeared in the morning. They were in a constant state of 
anxiety and alarm, and the most ordinary duties could only be per¬ 
formed at the risk of their lives. 

On the 15th of April, the enemy appeared in large numbers, hoping 
to crush the infant settlement at a single blow. Boonsborough, 
Logan’s fort and Harrodsburgh were attacked at one and the same 
time. But, destitute as they were of artillery, scaling ladders, and 
all the proper means of reducing fortified places, they could only 
distress the men, alarm the women and destroy the corn and cattle. 
Boonsborough sustained some loss, as did the other stations, but the 
enemy being more exposed, suffered so severely as to cause them 
to retire with precipitation. 

No rest, however, was given to the unhappy garrison. On the 
4th of July following, they were again attacked by two hundred 
warriors, and again repulsed the enemy with loss. The Indians 
retreated, but a few days afterwards fell upon Logan’s station with 
great fury, having sent detachments to alarm the other stations, so as 
to prevent the appearance of reinforcements to Logan’s. In this 
last attempt, they displayed great obstinacy, and as the garrison 
consisted only of 15 men, they were reduced to extremity. Not a 
moment could be allowed for sleep. Burning arrows were shot up¬ 
on the roofs of the houses, and the Indians often pressed boldly up 
to the gates, and attempted to hew them down with their tomahawks. 
Fortunately, at this critical time, Col. Bowman arrived from Virginia 
with one hundred men well armed, and the savages precipitately 
withdrew, leaving the garrison almost exhausted with fatigue, and 
reduced to twelve men. 

A brief period of repose now followed, in which the settlers 
endeavored to repair the damages done to their farms. But a period 
of heavy trial to Boone and his family was approaching. In January, 
1778, accompanied by thirty men, Boone went to the Blue Licks to 
make salt for the different stations ; and on the 7th of February 
following, while out hunting, he fell in with one hundred and two 
Indian warriors, on their march to attack Boonsborough. He 
instantly fled, but being upwards of fifty years old, was unable to 
contend with the fleet young men who pursued him, and was a 
second time taken prisoner. As usual he was treated with kindness 
until his final fate was determined, and was led back to the Licks, 
where his men were still encamped. Here his whole party, to the 
number of twenty seven, surrendered themselves, upon promise of 
life and good treatment, both of which conditions were faithfully^ 
observed. 

Had the Indians prosecuted their enterprise, they might, perhaps, 
by showing their prisoners, and threatening to put them to the torture, 


296 


BOONE, 


have operated so far upon the sympathies of the garrisons as to have 
obtained considerable results. But nothing of the kind was attempt¬ 
ed. They had already been unexpectedly successful, and it is their 
custom after either good or bad fortune, immediately to return home 
and enjoy the triumph. Boone and his party were conducted to the 
old town of Chillicothe, where they remained until the following 
March. No journal was written during this period, by either Boone 
or his party. We are only informed that his mild and patient 
equanimity, wrought powerfully upon the Indians; that he was 
adopted into a family, and uniformly treated with the utmost affec¬ 
tion. One fact is given us which shows his acute observation, and 
knowledge of mankind. At the various shooting matches to which 
he was invited, he took care not to beat them too often. He knew 
that no feeling is more painful than that of inferiority, and that the 
most effectual way of keeping them in a good humor with him , was 
to keep them in a good humor with themselves. He, therefore, 
only shot well enough to make it an honor to beat him, and found 
himself an universal favorite. 

On the 10th of March, 1778, Boone was conducted to Detriot, 
when Governor Hamilton himself, offered J01OO for his ransom ; 
but so strong was the affection of the Indians for their prisoner, that 
it was positively refused. Several English gentlemen, touched with 
sympathy for his misfortunes, made pressing offers of money and 
other articles, but Boone steadily refused to receive benefits which 
he could never return. The offer was honorable to them, and the 
refusal was dictated by rather too refined a spirit of independence. 
Boone’s anxiety on account of his wife and children, was incessant, 
and the more intolerable, as he dared not excite the suspicion of the 
Indians by any indication of a wish to rejoin them. 

Upon his return from Detroit, he observed that one hundred and 
fifty warriors of various tribes had assembled, painted and equipped 
for an expedition against Boonsborough. His anxiety at this sight 
became ungovernable, and he determined, at every risk, to effect his 
escape. During the whole of this agitating period, however, he 
permitted no symptoms of anxiety to escape him. He hunted and 
shot with them, as usual, until the morning of the 16th of June, 
when, taking an early start, he left Chillicothe, and directed his 
route to Boonsborough. The distance exceeded one hundred and 
sixty miles, but he performed it in four days, during which he ate 
only one meal. He appeared before the garrison like one risen from 
the dead. His wife, supposing him killed, had transported herself, 
children and property to her father’s house, in North Carolina ; his 
men, suspecting no danger, were dispersed in their ordinary avoca¬ 
tions, and the works had been permitted to go to waste. Not a 
moment was to be lost. The garrison worked day and night upon 
the fortifications. New gates, new flanks and double bastions, were 
soon completed. The cattle and horses were brought into the fort, 
ammunition prepared, and every thing made ready for the approach 
of the enemy within ten days after his arrival. At this time, one of 


BOONE. 


297 


his companions in captivity arrived from Chillicothe, and announced 
that his escape had determined the Indians to delay the invasion for 
three weeks. 

During this interval, it was ascertained that numerous spies were 
traversing the woods and hovering around the station, doubtless for 
the purpose of observing and reporting the condition of the garrison. 
Their report could not have been favorable. The alarm had spread 
very generally, and all were upon the alert. The attack was delayed 
so long, that Boone began to suspect that they had been discouraged 
by the report of the spies ; and he determined to invade them. 
Selecting nineteen men from his garrison, he put himself at their 
head and marched with equal silence and celerity, against the town 
of Paint Creek, on the Scioto. He arrived, without discovery, with¬ 
in four miles of the town, and there encountered a party of thirty 
warriors on their march to unite with the grand army in the expedi¬ 
tion against Boonsborough. Instantly attacking them with great 
spirit, he compelled them to give way with some loss, and without 
any injury to himself. He then halted, and sent two spies in ad¬ 
vance to ascertain the condition of the village. In a few hours they 
returned with the intelligence, that the town was evacuated. He 
instantly concluded that the grand army was upon its march against 
Boonsborough, whose situation, as well as his own, was exceedingly 
critical. Retracing his steps, he marched day and night, hoping still 
to elude the enemy and reach Boonsborough before them. He soon 
fell in with their trail, and making a circuit to avoid them, he passed 
their army on the sixth day of his march, and on the seventh reach¬ 
ed Boonsborough. 

On the eighth, the enemy appeared in great force. There were 
nearly five hundred Indian warriors, armed and painted in their 
usual manner, and what was still more formidable, they were con¬ 
ducted by Canadian officers, well skilled in the usages of modern 
warfare. As soon as they were arrayed in front of the fort, the 
British colors were displayed, and an officer with a flag was sent to 
demand the surrender of the fort, with a promise of quarter and good 
treatment in case of compliance, and threatening “ the hatchet,” in 
case of a storm. Boone requested two days for consideration, which, 
in defiance of all experience and common sense, was granted. This 
interval, as usual, was employed in preparation for an obstinate 
resistance. The cattle were brought into the fort, the horses secured, 
and all things made ready against the commencement of hostilities. 
Boone then assembled the garrison and represented to them the con¬ 
dition in which they stood. They had not now to deal with Indians 
alone, but with British officers, skilled in the art of attacking forti¬ 
fied places, sufficiently numerous to direct , but too few to restrain 
their savage allies. If they surrendered, their lives might and 
probably would be saved; but they would suffer much inconvenience, 
and must loose all their property. If they resisted, and were over¬ 
come, the life of every man, woman and child would be sacrificed. 
The hour was now come in which they were to determine what was 


298 


BOONE. 


to be done. If they were inclined to surrender, he would announce 
it to the officer ; if they were resolved to maintain the fort, he would 
share their fate, whether in life or in death. He had scarcely finish¬ 
ed, when every man arose and in a firm tone announced his determi¬ 
nation to defend the fort to the last. 

Boone then appeared at the gate of the fortress, and communicated 
to Capt. Duquesne the resolution of his men. Disappointment and 
chagrin were strongly painted upon the face of the Canadian at this 
answer; but endeavoring to disguise his feelings, he declared that 
Governor Hamilton had ordered him not to injure the men if it could 
be avoided, and that if nine of the principal inhabitants of the fort 
would come out into the plain and treat with them, they would 
instantly depart without farther hostility. The insidious nature of 
this proposal was evident, for they could converse very well from 
where they then stood, and going out would only place the officers 
of the fort at th3 mercy of the savages—not to mention the absurdity 
of supposing that this army of warriors would “ treat ” but upon 
such terms as pleased them, and no terms were likely to do so, short 
of a total abandonment of the country. Notwithstanding these 
obvious objections, the word “treat,” sounded so pleasantly in the 
ears ol the besieged, that they agreed at once to the proposal and 
Boone himself, attended by eight of his men, went out and mingled 
with the savages, who crowded around them in great numbers, and 
with countenances of deep anxiety. The treaty then commenced 
and was soon concluded. What the terms were, we are not inform¬ 
ed, nor is it a matter of the least importance, as the whole was a 
stupid and shallow artifice. This was soon made manifest. Duquense, 
after many very pretty periods about the “ bienfaisance and human- 
ite ” which should accompany the warfare of civilized beings, at length 
informed Boone, that it was a singular custom with the Indians, upon 
the conclusion of a treaty with the whites, for two warriors to take 
hold of the hand of each white man. Boone thought this rather a 
singular custom, 4 but there was no time to dispute about etiquette, 
particularly, as he could not be more in their power that he already 
was ; so he signified his willingness to conform to the Indian mode 
of cementing friendship. Instantly, two warriors approached each 
white man, with the word “ brother ” upon their lips, but a very 
different expression in their eyes, and grappling him with violence, 
attempted to bear him off. They probably (unless totally infatua¬ 
ted,) expected such a consummation, and all at the same moment 
sprung from their enemies and ran to the fort, under a heavy fire, 
which fortunately only wounded one man. 

We look here in vain for the prudence and sagacity which usually 
distinguished Boone. Indeed there seems to have been a contest 
between him and Duquesne, as to which should display the greater 
quantum of shallowness. The plot itself was unworthy of a child, 
and the execution beneath contempt. For after all this treachery, to 
permit his prisoner to escape from the very midst of his warriors, 
who certainly might have thrown themselves between Boone and 


BOONE. 


299 


the fort, argues a poverty or timidity, on the part of Duquesne, truly 
despicable. 

The attack instantly commenced by a heavy fire against the pick¬ 
eting, and was returned with fatal accuracy by the garrison. The 
Indians quickly sheltered themselves, and the action became more 
cautious and deliberate. Finding but little effect from the fire of his 
men, Duquesne next resorted to a more formidable mode of attack. 
The fort stood on the south bank of the river, within sixty yards of 
the water. Commencing under the bank, where their operations 
were concealed from the garrison, they attempted to push a mine 
into the fort. Their object, however, was fortunately discovered by 
the quantity of fresh earth which they were compelled to throw into 
the river, and by which the water became muddy for some distance 
below. Boone, who had regained his usual sagacity, instantly cut 
a trench within the fort in such a manner as to intersect the line of 
their approach, and thus frustrated their design. The enemy ex¬ 
hausted all the ordinary artifices of Indian warfare, but were steadily 
repulsed in every effort. Finding their numbers daily thinned by 
the deliberate but fatal fire of the garrison, and seeing no prospect 
of final success, they broke up on the ninth day of the siege and 
returned home. The loss of the garrison was two men killed and 
four wounded. On the part of the savages, thirty-seven were killed 
and many wounded, who, as usual, were all carried off. This was 
the last siege sustained by Boonsborough. The country had in¬ 
creased so rapidly in numbers, and so many other stations lay 
between Boonsborough and the Ohio, that the savages could not reach 
it without leaving enemies in the rear. 

In the autumn of this year Boone returned to North Carolina for 
his wife and family, who, as already observed, had supposed him 
dead, and returned to her father. There is a hint in Mr. Marshall’s 
history, that the family affairs, which detained him in North 
Carolina, were of an unpleasant character, but no explanation is 
given. 

In the summer of 1780, he returned to Kentucky with his family, 
and settled at Boonsborough. Here he continued busily engaged 
upon his farm, until the 6th of October, when, accompanied by his 
brother, he went to the Lower Blue Licks, for the purpose of pro¬ 
viding himself with salt. This spot seemed fatal to Boone. Here 
he had once been taken prisoner by the Indians, and here he was 
destined, within two years, to loose his youngest son, and to witness 
the slaughter of many of his dearest friends. His present visit was 
not free from calamity. Upon their return, they were encountered 
by a party of Indians, and his brother, who had accompanied him 
faithfully through many years of toil and danger, was killed and 
scalped before his eyes. Unable either to prevent or avenge his 
death, Boone was compelled to fly, and by his superior knowledge 
of the country, contrived to elude his pursuers. They followed his 
trail, however, by the scent of a dog, that pressed him closely, and 
prevented his concealing himself. This was one of the most criti- 
26 


300 


BOONE, 


cal moments of his life, but his usual coolness and fortitude enabled 
him to meet it. He halted until the dog, baying loudly upon his 
trail, came within gun-shot, when he deliberately turned and shot 
him dead. The thickness of the wood and the approach of dark¬ 
ness then enabled him to effect his escape. 

During the following year, Boonsborough enjoyed uninterrupted 
tranquility. The country had become comparatively thickly settled, 
and was studded witd fortresses in every direction. Fresh emigrants 
with their families were constantly arriving ; and many young un¬ 
married women, (who had heretofore been extremely scarce,) had 
ventured to risk themselves in Kentucky. They could not have 
selected a spot where their merit was more properly appreciated, 
and were disposed of very rapidly to the young hunters, most of 
whom had hitherto, from necessity, remained bachelors. Thriving 
settlements had been pushed beyond the Kentucky river, and a 
number of houses had been built where Lexington now stands. 

The year 1781 passed away in perfect tranquility, and, judging 
from appearances, nothing was more distant, than the terrible strug¬ 
gle that awaited them. But during the whole of this year, the 
Indians were meditating a desperate effort to crush the settlements 
at a single blow. They had become seriously alarmed at the tide of 
emigration, which rolled over the country, and threatened to convert 
their favorite hunting ground into one vast cluster of villages. The 
game had already been much dispersed, the settlers originally weak 
and scattered over the south side of the Kentucky river, had now 
become numerous, and were rapidly extending to the Ohio. One 
vigorous and united effert might still crush their enemies, and regain 
for themselves the undisputed possession of the western forests. A 
few renegado white men, were mingled with them, and inflamed 
their wild passions, by dwelling upon the injuries which they had 
sustained at the hands of the whites, and of the necessity for instant 
and vigorous exertion, or of an eternal surrender of every hope either 
of redress or vengeance. Among these the most remarkable was 
Simon Girty. Runners were despatched to most of the north-wes¬ 
tern tribes, and all were exhorted to lay aside private jealousy, and 
unite in a common cause against these white intruders. In the 
mean time, the settlers were busily employed in opening farms, 
marrying and giving in marriage, totally ignorant of the storm which 
w r as gathering upon the Lakes. 

In the spring of 1782, after a long interval of repose, they were 
harassed by small parties, who preceded the main body, as the 
pattering and irregular drops of rain, are the precursors of the ap¬ 
proaching storm. In the month of May, a party of twenty-five 
Wyandots secretly approached Estill’s station, and committed 
shocking outrages in its vicinity. Entering a cabin which stood 
apart from the rest, they seized a woman and her two daughters, 
who, having been violated with circumstances of savage barbarity, 
were tomahawked and scalped. Their bodies, yet warm and 
bleeding, were found upon the floor of the cabin. The neighbor- 


BOONE. 


301 


hood was instantly alarmed. Captain Estill speedily collected a 
body of twenty-five men, and pursued their trail with great rapidity. 
He came up with them on Hinkston fork of Licking, immediately 
after they had crossed it, and a most severe and desperate conflict 
ensued. The Indians at first appeared daunted and began to 
fly, but their chief, who was badly wounded by the first fire 
was heard in a loud voice, ordering them to stand and return the fire, 
which was instantly obeyed. The creek ran between the two par¬ 
ties, and prevented a charge on either side, without the certainty of 
great loss. The parties, therefore, consisting of precisely the same 
number, formed an irregular line, within fifty yards of each other, and 
sheltering themselves behind trees or logs, they fired with delibera¬ 
tion, as an object presented itself. The only manoeuvre which the 
nature of the ground permitted, was to extend their lines in such a 
manner as to uncover the flank of the enemy, and even this was 
extremely dangerous, as every motion exposed them to a close and 
deadly fire. The action, therefore, was chiefly stationary, neither 
party advancing or retreating, and every individual acting for him¬ 
self. It had already lasted more than an hour, without advantage 
on either side or any prospect of its termination. Captain Estill 
had lost one third of his men, and had inflicted about an equal loss 
upon his enemies, who still boldly maintained their ground, and 
returned his fire with equal spirit. To have persevered in the In¬ 
dianmode of fighting, would have axposed his party to certain death, 
one by one, unless all the Indians should be killed first, who, howe¬ 
ver, had at least an equal chance with himself. Even victory, 
bought at such a price, would have afforded but a melancholy tri¬ 
umph ; yet it was impossible to retreat or advance without exposing 
his men to the greatest danger. After coolly revolving these reflec¬ 
tions in his mind, and observing that the enemy exhibited no symp¬ 
toms of discouragement, Captain Estill determined to detach a party 
of six men, under Lieut. Miller, with orders to cross the creek above, 
and take the Indians in flank, while he maintained his ground, ready 
to co-operate, as circumstances might require. But he had to deal 
with an enemy equally bold and sagacious. The Indian chief was 
quickly aware of the division of the force opposed to him, from the 
slackening of the fire in front, and readily conjecturing his object, 
he determined to frustrate it by crossing the creek with his whole 
force, and overwhelming Estill, now weakened by the absence of 
Miller. The manoeuvre was bold and masterly, and was executed 
with determined courage. Throwing themselves into the water, they 
fell upon Estill with the tomahawk, and drove him before them with 
slaughter. Miller’s party retreated with precipitation, and even lie 
under the reproach of deserting their friends, and absconding, instead 
of occupying the designated ground. Others contradict this state¬ 
ment, and affirm that Miller punctually executed his orders, crossed 
the creek, and falling in with the enemy, was compelled to retire 
with loss. We think it probable that the Indians rushed upon Es¬ 
till, as above mentioned, and having defeated him, recrossed the 


302 


BOONE. 


creek and attacked Miller, thus cutting up their enemy in detail. 
Estill’s party, finding themselves furiously charged, and receiving 
no assistance from Miller, who was probably at that time on the 
other side of the creek, in execution of his orders, would naturally 
consider themselves deserted, and when a clamor of that kind is 
once raised against a man, (particularly in a defeat,) the voice of 
reason can no longer be heard. Some scapegoat is always necessary. 
The broken remains of the detachment returned to the station, and 
filled the country with consternation and alarm, greatly dispropor- 
tioned to the extent of the loss. The brave Estill, with eight of his 
men, had fallen, and four more were wounded,—more than half of 
their original number. 

This, notwithstanding the smallness of the numbers, is a very 
remarkable action, and perhaps more honorable to the Indians than 
any other one on record. The numbers, the arms, the courage and 
the position of the parties were equal. Both were composed of 
good marksmen and skilful woodsmen. There was no surprise, no 
panic, nor any particular accident, according to the most probable 
account, which decided the action. A delicate manoeuvre, on the 
part of Estill, gave an advantage, which was promptly seized by the 
Indian chief, and a bold and masterly movement decided the fate of 
the day. 

The news of Estill’s disaster, was quickly succeeded by another, 
scarcely less startling to the alarmed settlers. Captain Holder, at 
the head of seventeen men, pursued a party of Indians who had 
taken two boys from the neighborhood of Hoy’s station. He over¬ 
took them after a rapid pursuit, and in the severe action which en¬ 
sued, was repulsed with the loss of more than half his party. The 
tide of success seemed completely turned in favor of the Indians. 
They traversed the woods in every direction, sometimes singly 
and sometimes in small parties, and kept the settlers in constant 
alarm. 

At length, early in August, the great effort was made. The allied 
Indian army, composed of detachments from nearly all the north¬ 
western tribes, and amounting to nearly six hundred men, commenced 
their march from Chillicothe, under the command of their respective 
chiefs, aided and influenced by Girty, M’Kee, and other renegado 
white men. With a secrecy and celerity peculiar to themselves, 
they advanced through the woods without giving the slightest indi¬ 
cation of their approach, and on the night of the 14th of August, 
they appeared before Bryant’s station, as suddenly as if they had 
risen from the earth, and surrounding it on all sides, calmly awaited 
the approach of daylight, holding themselves in readiness to rush in 
upon the inhabitants the moment the gates were opened in the 
morning. The supreme influence of fortune in war, was never 
more strikingly displayed. The garrison had determined to march 
on the following morning, to the assistance of Hoy’s station, from 
which a messenger had arrived the evening before, with the intelli¬ 
gence of Holder’s defeat, Had the Indian’s arrived only a few 


BOONE. 


303 


hours later, they would have found the fort occupied only by old 
men, women, and children, who could not have resisted their attack 
for a moment. As it was, they found the garrison assembled and 
under arms, most of them busily engaged throughout the whole 
night, in preparing for an early march the following morning. The 
Indians could distinctly hear the bustle of preparation, and see lights 
glancing from block houses and cabins during the night, which must 
have led them to suspect that their approach had been discovered. 
All continued tranquil during the night, and Girty silently concerted 
the plan of attack. 

The fort, consisting of about forty cabins placed in parallel lines, 
stands upon a gentle rise on the southern bank of the Elkhoru, a 
few paces to the right of the road from Maysville to Lexington, 
The garrison was supplied with water from a spring at some dis¬ 
tance from the fort, on its north-western side—a great error in most 
of the stations, which, in a close and long continued siege, must have 
suffered dreadfully for want of water. 

The great body of Indians placed themselves in ambush within 
half rifle shot of the spring, while one hundred select men were 
placed near the spot where the road now runs after passing the creek, 
with orders to open a brisk fire and show themselves to the garrison 
on that side, for the purpose of drawing them out, while the main 
body held themselves in readiness to rush upon the opposite gate of 
the fort, hew it down with their tomahawks, and force their way 
into the midst of the cabins. At dawn of day, the garrison paraded 
under arms, and were preparing to open their gates and march off, 
as already mentioned, when they were alarmed by a furious dis¬ 
charge of rifles, accompanied with yells and screams, which struck 
terror to the hearts of the women and children, and startled even the 
men. All ran hastily to the picketing, and beheld a small party of 
Indians, exposed to open view, firing, yelling, and making the most 
furious gestures. The appearance was so singular, and so different 
from their usual manner of fighting, that some of the more wary and 
experienced of the garrison instantly pronounced it a decoy party, 
and restrained their young men from sallying out and attacking 
them, as some of them were strongly disposed to do. The opposite 
side of the fort was instantly manned, and several breaches in the 
picketing rapidly repaired. Their greatest distress arose from the 
prospect of suffering for water. The more experienced of the gar¬ 
rison felt satisfied that a powerful party was in abuscade near the 
spring, but at the same time they supposed that the Indians would 
not unmask themselves, until the firing upon the opposite side of 
the fort was returned with such warmth as to induce the belief that 
the feint had succeeded. Acting upon this impression, and yielding 
to the urgent necessity of the case, they summoned all the women, 
without exception, and explaining to them the circumstances in 
which they were placed, and the improbability that any injury would 
be offered them, until the firing had been returned from the opposite 
eide of the fort, they urged them to go in a body to the spring, and 
36* 


304 


BOONE. 


each to bring up a bucket full of water. Some of the ladies, as was 
natural, had no relish for the undertaking, and asked why the men 
could not bring water as well as themselves! observing that they 
were not bullet-proof, and that the Indians made no distinction 
between male and female scalps ! To this it was answered, that 
women were in the habit of bringing water every morning to the 
fort, and that if the Indians saw them engaged as usual, it would 
induce them to believe that their ambuscade was undiscovered, and 
that they would not unmask themselves for the sake of firing at a few 
women, when they hoped, by remaining concealed a few moments 
longer, to obtain complete possession of the fort. That if men 
should go down to the spring, the Indians would immediately sus¬ 
pect that something was wrong, would despair of succeeding by 
ambuscade, and would instantly rush upon them, follow them into 
the fort, or shoot them down at the spring. The decision was 
soon over. A few of the boldest declared their readiness to brave 
the danger, and the younger and more timid rallying in the rear of 
these veterans, they all marched down in a body to the spring, 
within point blank shot of more than five hundred Indian warriors ! 
Some of the girls could not help betraying symptoms of terror, but 
the married women, in general, moved with a steadiness and compo¬ 
sure which completely deceived the Indians. Not a shot was fired. 
The party were permitted to fill their buckets, one after another, 
without interruption, and although their steps became quicker and 
quicker, on their return, and when near the gate of the fort, degene¬ 
rated into rather an unmilitary celerity, attended with some little 
crowding in passing the gate, yet not more than one fifth of the 
water was spilled, and the eyes of the youngest had not dilated to 
more than double their ordinary size. 

Being now amply supplied with water, they sent out thirteen 
young men to attack the decoy party, with orders to fire with great 
rapidity, and make as much noise as possible, but not to pursue the 
enemy too far, while the rest of the garrison took post on the 
opposite side of the fort, cocked their guns, and stood in readiness 
to receive the ambuscade as soon as it was unmasked. The firing 
of the light parties on the Lexington road was soon heard, and 
quickly became sharp and serious, gradually becoming more distant 
from the fort. Instantly, Girty sprung up at the head of his five 
hundred warriors, and rushed rapidly upon the western gate, ready 
to force his way over the undefended palisades. Into this immense 
mass of dusky bodies, the garrison poured several rapid vollies of 
rifle balls with destructive effect. Their consternation may be ima¬ 
gined. With wild cries they dispersed on the right and left, and in 
two minutes not an Indian was to be seen. At the same time, the 
party who had sallied out on the Lexington road, came running into 
the fort at the opposite gate, in high spirits, and laughing heartily at 
the success of their manoeuvre. 

A regular attack, in the usual manner, then commenced without 
much effect on either side, until two o’clock in the afternoon, when 


B00XE. 


305 


a new scene presented itself. Upon the first appearance of the In¬ 
dians in the morning, two of the garrison, Tomlinson and Bell, had 
been mounted upon fleet horses, and sent to Lexington, announcing 
the arrival of the Indians and demanding reinforcements. Upon 
their arrival, a little after sunrise, they found the town occupied only 
by women and children, and a few old men, the rest having marched 
at the intelligence of Holder’s defeat, to the general rendezvous at 
Hoy’s station. The two couriers instantly followed at a gallop, and 
overtaking them on the road, informed them of the danger to which 
Lexington was exposed during their absence. The whole party, 
amounting to sixteen horsemen, and more than double that number 
oil foot, with some additional volunteers from Boone’s station, 
instantly countermarched, and repaired with all possible expedition 
to Bryant’s station. They were entirely ignorant of the overwhelm¬ 
ing numbers opposed to them, or they would have proceeded 
with more caution. Tomlinson had only informed them that the 
station was surrounded, being himself ignorant of the numbers of the 
enemy. By great exertions, horse and foot appeared before Bryant’s 
at two in the afternoon, and pressed forward with precipitate gallantry 
to throw themselves into the fort. The Indians, however, had been 
aware of the departure of the two couriers, who had, in fact, broken 
through their line in order to give the alarm, and expecting the 
arrival of reinforcements, had taken measures to meet them. 

To the left of the long and narrow lane, where the Maysville and 
Lexington road now runs, there were more than one hundred acres of 
green standing corn. The usual road from Lexington to Bryant’s, 
ran parallel to the fence of this field, and only a few feet distant 
from it. On the opposite side of the road was a thick wood. Here, 
more than three hundred Indians lay in ambush, within pistol shot 
of the road, awaiting the approach of the party. The horsemen 
came in view at a time when the firing had ceased and every thing 
was quiet. Seeing no enemy, and hearing no noise, they entered 
the lane at a gallop, and were instantly saluted with a shower of 
rifle balls, from each side at the distance of ten paces. At the first 
shot, the whole party set spurs to their horses, and rode at full 
speed through a rolling fire from either side, which continued for 
several hundred yards, but owing partly to the furious rate at which 
they rode, partly to the clouds of dust raised by the horses’ feet, they 
all entered the fort unhurt. The men on foot were less fortunate. 
They were advancing through the cornfield, and might have reached 
the fort in safety, but for their eagerness to succor their friends. With¬ 
out reflecting, that from the weight and extent of the fire* the enemy 
must have been ten times their number, they ran up with inconside¬ 
rate courage, to the spot where the firing w'as heard, and there found 
themselves cut off from the fort, and within pistol shot of more than 
three hundred savages. Fortunately, the Indian guns had just been 
discharged, and they had not yet leisure to reload. At the sight of 
this brave body of footmen, however, they raised a hideous yell, 
and rushed upon them, tomahawk in hand. Nothing but the high 


306 


BOONE. 


corn and their loaded rifles, could have saved them from destruction. 
The Indians were cautious in rushing upon a loaded rifle, with only 
a tomahawk, and when they halted to load their pieces, the 
Kentuckians ran with great rapidity, turning and dodging through 
the corn in every direction. Some entered the wood and escaped 
through the thickets of cane, some were shot down in the cornfield, 
others maintained a running fight, halting occasionally behind trees 
and keeping the enemy at bay with their rifles, for of all men, the 
Indians are generally the most cautious in exposing themselves to 
danger. A stout, active young fellow, was so hard pressed by Girty 
and several savages, that he was compelled to discharge his rifle, 
(however unwillingly, having no time to re-load it,) and Girty fell. 
It happened, however, that a piece of thick soal-leather was in his 
shot-pouch at the time, which received the ball, and preserved his 
life, although the force of the blow felled him to the ground. The 
savages halted upon his fall, and the young man escaped. Although 
the skirmish and race lasted for more than an hour, during which 
the cornfield presented a scene of turmoil and bustle which can 
scarcely be conceived, yet very few lives were lost. Only six of 
the white men were killed and wounded, and probably still fewer of 
the enemy, as the whites never fired until absolutely necessary, but 
reserved their loads as a check upon the enemy. Had the Indians 
pursued them to Lexington, they might have possessed themselves 
of it without resistance, as there was no force there to oppose them ; 
but after following the fugitives for a few hundred yards, they 
returned to the hopeless siege of the fort. 

It was now near sunset, and the fire on both sides had slackened. 
The Indians had become discouraged. Their loss in the morning 
had been heavy, and the country was evidently arming, and would 
soon be upon them. They had made no impression upon the fort, 
and without, artillery could hope to make none. The chiefs spoke 
of raising the siege and decamping, but Girty determined, since his 
arms had been unavailing, to try the efficacy of negotiation. Near 
one of the bastions there was a large stump, to which he crept on 
his hands and knees, and from which he hailed the garrison. “ He 
highly commended their courage, but assured them, that further 
resistance would be madness, as he had six hundred warriors with 
him, and was in hourly expectation of reinforcements, with artillery, 
which would instantly blow their cabins into the air ; that if the fort 
was taken by storm, as it certainly would be, when their cannon 
arrived, it would be impossible for him to save their lives ; but if 
they surrendered at once, he gave them his honor, that not a hair of 
their heads should be injured. He told them his name, enquired 
whether they knew him, and assured them, that they might safely 
trust to his honor.” The garrison listened in silence to his speech, 
and many of them looked very blank at the mention of the artillery, 
as the Indians had, on one occasion, brought cannon with them, and 
destroyed two stations. But a young man by the name of Reynolds, 
highly distinguished for courage, energy, and a frolicksome gaiety 


BOONE. 


307 


of temper, perceiving the effect of Girty’s speech, took upon him¬ 
self to reply to it. To Girty’s enquiry of “ whether the garrison 
knew him?” Reynolds replied, “ that he was very well known— 
that he himself, had a worthless dog, to which he had given the 
name of “ Simon Girty,” in consequence of his striking resemblance 
to the man of that name. That if he had either artillery or reinforce¬ 
ments, he might bring them up and be-. That if either himself 

or any of the naked rascals with him, found their way into the fort, 
they would disdain to use their guns against them, but would drive 
them out again with switches, of which they had collected a great 
number for that purpose alone ; and finally, he declared, that they 
also expected reinforcements—that the whole country was inarching 
to their assistance, and that if Girty and his gang of murderers re¬ 
mained twenty-four hours longer before the fort their scalps would 
be found drying in the sun upon the roof of their cabins.” Girty 
took great offence at the tone and language of the young Kentuckian, 
and retired with an expression of sorrow for the inevitable destruc¬ 
tion which awaited them on the following morning. He quickly 
rejoined the chiefs, and instant preparations were made (or raising 
the siege. The night passed away in uninterrupted tranquility, and 
at daylight in the morning, the Indian camp was found deserted. 
Fires were still burning brightly, and several pieces of meat were 
left upon their roasting sticks, from which it was inferred that they 
had retreated a short time hefove daylight. 

Early in the day, reinforcements began to drop in, and by noon, 
one hundred and sixty seven men were assembled at Bryant’s station. 
Col. Daniel Boone, accompanied by his youngest son, headed a 
strong party from Boonsborough ; Trigg brought up the force from 
the neighborhood of Harrodsburg, and Todd commanded the militia 
around Lexington. Nearly a third of the whole number assembled, 
was composed of commissioned officers, who hurried from a distance 
to the scene of hostilities, and for the time took their station in the 
ranks. Of those under the rank of Colonel, the most conspicuous 
were, Majors Harland, McBride, McGary, and Levy Todd, and 
Captains Bulger and Gordon. Of the six last named officers, all 
tell in the subsequent battle, except Todd and McGary. Todd and 
Trigg, as senior Colonels, took the command, although their authority 
seems to have been in a great measure nominal. That, however, 
was of less consequence, as a sense of common danger is often more 
binding than the strictest discipline. A tumultuous consultation, in 
which every one seems to have had a voice, terminated in a unani¬ 
mous resolution to pursue the enemy without delay. It was well 
known that General Logan had collected a strong force in Lincoln, 
and would join them at farthest in twenty four hours. It was dis¬ 
tinctly understood that the enemy was at least double, and, according 
to Girty’s account, more than treble their own numbers. It was 
seen that their trail was broad and obvious, and that even some 
indications of a tardiness and willingness to be pursued, had been 
observed by their scouts, who had been sent out to reconnoitre, and 



308 


BOONE. 


from which it might reasonably be inferred that they would halt on 
the way—at least march so leisurely as to permit them to wait for 
the aid of Logan. Yet so keen was the arder of officer and solidier, 
that all these obvious reasons were overlooked, and in the afternoon 
of the 18th of August, the line of march was taken up, and the 
pursuit urged with that precipitate courage which has so often been 
fatal to Kentuckians. Most of the officers and many of the privates 
were mounted. 

The Indians had followed the buffalo trace, and as if to render 
their trail still more evident, they had chopped many of the trees on 
oach side of the road with their hatchets. These strong indications 
of tardiness, made some impression upon the cool and calculating 
mind of Boone, but it was too late to advise retreat. They encamped 
that night in the woods, and on the following day reached the fatal 
boundary of their pursuit! At the Lower Blue Licks, for the first 
time since the pursuit commenced, they came within view of an 
enemy. As the miscellaneous crowd of horse and foot reached the 
southern bank of Licking, they saw a number of Indians ascending 
the rocky ridge on the other side. They halted upon the appear¬ 
ance of the Kentuckians, gazed at them for a few moments in silence, 
and then calmly and leisurely disappeared over the top of the hill. 
A halt immediately ensued. A dozen or twenty officers met in 
front of the ranks, and entered into consultation. The wild and 
lonely aspect of the country around them, their distance from any 
point of support, with the certainty of their being in the presence of 
a superior enemy, seems to have inspired a portion of seriousness 
bordering upon awe. All eyes were now turned upon Boone, and 
Ool. Todd asked his opinion as to what should be done. The 
veteran woodsman, with his usual unmoved gravity, replied, “ that 
their situation was critical and delicate—that the force opposed to 
them was undoubtedly numerous and ready for battle, as might 
readily be seen from the leisurely retreat of the few Indians who had 
appeared upon the crest of the hill : that he was well acquainted 
with the ground in the neighborhood of the Lick, and was apprehen¬ 
sive that an ambuscade was formed at the distance of a mile in 
advance where two ravines, one upon each side of the ridge, ran in 
such a manner, that a concealed enemy might assail them at once 
both in front and flank, before they were apprised of the danger. 
It would be proper, therefore, to do one of two things. Either to 
await the arrival of Logan, who was now undoubtedly on his march 
to join them, or if it was determined to attack without delay, that 
one half of their number should march up the river, which there 
bends in an elliptical form, cross at the rapids, and fall upon the 
rear of the enemy, while the other division attacked in front. At 
imy rate, he strongly urged the necessity of reconnoitering the ground 
carefully before the main body crossed the river.” Such was the 
counsel of Boone. And although no measure could have been much 
more disastrous than that which was adopted, yet it may be doubted 
if any thing short of an immediate retreat upon Logan, could have 


BOONE. 


309 


saved this gallant body of men from the fate which they encountered. 
If they divided their force, the enemy, as in EstilPs case, might 
have overwhelmed them in detail—if they remained where they 
were, without advancing, the enemy would certainly have attacked 
them, probably in the night, and with a certainly of success. They 
had committed a great error at first in not waiting for Logan, and 
nothing short of a retreat, which would have been considered dis¬ 
graceful, could now repair it. 

Boone was heard in silence and with deep attention. Some wished 
to adopt the first plan—others preferred the second, and the discus¬ 
sion threatened to be drawn out to some length, when the boiling 
ardor of McGary, who could never endure the presence of an enemy 
without instant battle, stimulated him to an act which had nearly 
proved destructive to his country. He suddenly interrupted the 
consultation with a loud whoop, resembling the war cry of the In¬ 
dians, spurred his horse into the stream, waved his hat over his head 
and shouted, “ Let all who are not cowards follow me!” The words 
and the action together, produced an electrical effect. The mounted 
men dashed tumultuously into the river, each striving to be foremost. 
The footmen were mingled with them in one roiling and irregular 
mass. No order was given and none observed. They struggled 
through a deep ford as well as they could, McGary still leading the 
van, closely followed by Majors Harland and McBride. With the 
same rapidity they ascended the ridge, which, by the trampling of 
buffalo forages, had been stripped bare of all vegetation, with the 
exception of a few dwarfish cedars, and which was rendered still 
more desolate in appearance, by the multitude of rocks, blackened 
by the sun, which were spread over its surface. Upon reaching the 
top of the ridge, they followed the buffalo trace with the same 
precipitate ardor—Todd and Trigg in the rear; McGary, Harland, 
McBride and Boone in front. No scouts were sent in advance— 
none explored either flank—officers and soldiers seemed alike 
demented by the contagious example of a single man, and all 
struggled forward, horse and foot, as if to outstrip each other in the 
advance. 

Suddenly, the van halted. They had reached the spot mentioned 
by Boone, where the two ravines head, on each side of the ridge. 
Here a body of Indians presented themselves, and attacked the van. 
McGary’s party instantly returned the fire, but under great disadvan¬ 
tage. They were upon a bare and open ridge—the Indians in a 
bushy ravine. The centre and rear, ignorant of the ground, hurried 
up to the assistance of the van, but were soon stopped by a terrible 
fire from the ravine which flanked them. They found themselves 
enclosed as if in the wings of a net, destitute of proper shelter, while 
the enemy were in a great measure covered from their fire. Still, 
however, they maintained their ground. The action became warm 
and bloody. The parties gradually closed, the Indians emerged 
from the ravine, and the fire became mutually destructive. The 
officers suffered dreadfully. Todd and Trigg, in the rear—Harland* 


310 


BOONE. 


McBride, and young Boone, in front, were already killed. The In 
dians gradually extended their line, to turn the right of the Kentuck¬ 
ians, and cut off their retreat. This was quickly perceived by the 
Aveight of the fire from that quarter, and the rear instantly fell back 
in disorder, and attempted to rush through their only opening to the 
river. The motion quickly communicated itself to the van, and a 
hurried retreat became general. The Indians instanly sprung for- 
Avard in pursuit, and falling upon them with their tomahawks, made 
a cruel slaughter. From the battle ground to the river, the spectacle 
Avas terrible. The horsemen generally escaped, but the foot, 
particularly the van, which had advanced farthest within the Avings 
of the net, were almost totally destroyed. Colonel Boone, after 
Avitnessing the death of his son and many of his dearest friends, 
found himself almost entirely surrounded at the very commence¬ 
ment of the retreat. Several hundred Indians were between him 
and the ford, to which the great mass of the fugitives were bending 
their flight, and to which the attention of the savages was pricipally 
directed. Being intimately acquainted with the ground, he, together 
Avith a few friends, dashed into the ravine which the Indians had 
occupied, but which most of them had noAv left to join the pursuit. 
After sustaining one or two heavy fires, and baffling one or two small 
parties, who pursued him for a short distance, he crossed the river 
below the ford, by swimming, and entering the wood at a point Avhere 
there Avas no pursuit, returned by a circuitous route to Bryant’s 
station. In the mean time, the great mass of the victors and van¬ 
quished crowded the bank of the ford. The slaughter was great in 
the river. The ford was crowded with horsemen and foot and 
Indians, all mingled together. Some Avere compelled to seek a 
passage above by sAvimming—some, who could not sAvim, Avere 
overtaken and killed at the edge of the Avater. A man by the name 
of Netherland, who had formerly been strongly suspected of cow¬ 
ardice, here displayed a coolness and presence of mind, equally noble 
and unexpected. Being finely mounted he had outstripped the great 
mass of fugitives, and crossed the river in safety. A dozen or twenty 
horemen accompanied him, and having placed the river between them 
and the enemy, showed a disposition to continue their flight, with¬ 
out regard to the safety of their friends who were on foot and still 
struggling with the current. Netherland instantly checked his horse, 
and in a loud voice, called upon his companions to halt!—fire upon 
the Indians, and save those who were still in the stream. The party 
instantly obeyed—and facing about, poured a fatal discharge of rifles 
upon the foremost of the pursuers. The enemy instantly fell back 
from the opposite bank, and gave time for the harassed and misera¬ 
ble footmen to cross in safety The check, however, was but mo¬ 
mentary. Indians were seen crossing in great numbers above and 
below, and the flight again became general. Most of the foot left 
the great buffalo track, and plunging into the thickets, escaped by a 
circuitous route to Bryant’s. 


BOONE. 


311 


But little loss was sustained after crossing the river, although the 
pursuit was urged keenly for twenty miles. From the battle ground 
to the ford, the loss was very heavy ; and at that stage of the retreat 
there occurred a rare and striking instance of magnanimity, which it 
would be criminal to omit. The reader cannot have forgotten young 
Reynolds, who replied with such rough but ready humor to the 
pompous summons of Girty, at the siege of Bryant’s. This young 
man, after bearing his share in the action with distinguished gallan¬ 
try, was galloping with several other horsemen in order to reach the 
ford. The great body of fugitives had preceded them, and their 
situation was in the highest degree critical and dangerous. About 
half way between the battle ground and the river, the party overtook 
Captain Patterson, on foot, exhausted by the rapidity of the flight and, 
in consequence of former wounds received from the Indians, so 
infirm as to be unable to keep up with the main body of the men on 
foot. The Indians were close behind him, and his fate seemed 
inevitable. Reynolds, upon coming up with this brave officer, 
instantly sprung from his horse, aided Patterson to mount upon the 
saddle, and continued his own flight on foot. Being remarkably 
active and vigorous, he contrived to elude his pursuers, and turning 
off from the main road, plunged into the river near the spot where 
Boone had crossed, and swam in safety to the opposite side. Un¬ 
fortunately, he wore a pair of buckskin breeches, which had become 
so heavy and full of water, as to prevent his exerting himself with 
his usual activity, and while sitting down for the purpose of pulling 
them off, he was overtaken by a party of Indians and made prisoner. 
A prisoner is rarely put to death by the Indians, unless wounded or 
infirm, until they return to their own country; and then his fate is 
decided in solemn council. Young Reynolds, therefore, was treated 
kindly, and compelled to accompany his captors in the pursuit. A 
small party of Kentuckians soon attracted their attention, and he was 
left in charge of three Indians, who, eager in pursuit, in turn com¬ 
mitted him to the charge of one of their number, while they followed 
their companions. Reynolds and his guard jogged along very lei¬ 
surely,—the former totally unarmed, the latter with a tomahawk and 
rifle in his hands. At length the Indian stopped to tie his moccasin, 
when Reynolds instantly sprung upon him, knocked him down with 
his fist, and quickly disappeared in the thicket which surrounded 
them. For this act of generosity, (’apt. Patterson afterwards made 
him a present of two hundred acres of first-rate land. 

Late in the evening of the same day, most of the survivors arrived 
at Bryant’s station. The melancholy intelligence spread rapidly 
throughout the country, and the whole land was covered with mourn¬ 
ing. Sixty men had been killed in the battle and flight, and seven 
had been taken prisoners, of whom some were afterwards put to death 
by the Indians, as was said, to make their loss even. This account, 
however, appears very improbable. It is almost incredible that the 
Indians should have suffered an equal loss. Their superiority of 
numbers, their advantage of position, (being in a great measure shel- 
27 


312 


BOONE. 


tered, while the Kentuckians, particularly the horsemen, were much 
exposed,) the extreme brevity of the battie, and the acknowledged 
boldness of the pursuit, all tend to contradict the report that the 
Indian loss exceeded ours. We have no doubt that some of the 
prisoners were murdered, after arriving at their towns, but cannot 
believe that the reason assigned for so ordinary a piece of barbarity 
was the true one. Still the execution done by the Kentuckians, 
while the battle lasted, seems to have been considerable, although 
far inferior to the loss which they themselves sustained. Todd and 
Trigg were a severe loss to their families, and to the country gener¬ 
ally. They were men of rank in life, superior fo the ordinary class 
of settlers, and generally esteemed for courage, probity and intelli¬ 
gence. The death of Major IJarland was deeply and universally 
regretted. A keen courage, united to a temper the most amiable, 
and an integrity the most incorruptible, had rendered him extremely 
popular in the country. Together with his friend McBride, he 
accompanied McGary in the van, and both fell in the commencement 
of the action. McGary, notwithstanding the extreme exposure of 
his station, as leader of the van, and consequently most deeply 
involved in the ranks of the enemy, escaped without the slightest 
injury. This gentleman will ever be remembered, as associated 
with the disaster of which he was the immediate, although not the 
original cause. He has always been represented as a man of fiery and 
daring courage, strongly tinctured with ferocity, and unsoftened by 
any of the humane and gentle qualities, which awaken affection.— 
In the hour of battle, his presence was invaluable, but in civil life, 
the ferocity of his temper rendered him an unpleasant companion. 

Several years after the battle of the Blue Licks, a gentleman of 
Kentucky, since dead, fell in company with McGary at one of the 
circuit courts, and the conversation soon turned upon the battle. 
McGary frankly acknowledged that he was the immediate cause of 
the loss of blood on that day, and, with great heat and energy, 
assigned his reasons for urging on the battle. He said that in the 
hurried council which was held at Bryant’s, on the 18th, he had 
strenuously urged Todd and Trigg to halt for twenty-four hours, 
assuring them, that with the aid of Logan, they would be able to 
follow them even to CJhillicothe if necessary, and that their numbers 
then were too weak to encounter them alone. He offered, he said, 
to pledge his head, that the Indians would not return with such pre- 
cipitation as w r as supposed, but would afford ample time to collect 
more force, and give them battle with a prospect of success. He 
added, that Col. Todd scouted his arguments, and declared that “ if 
a single day was lost the Indians would never be overtaken—but 
would cross the Ohio and disperse; that now 7 was the time to strike 
them, while they were in a body—that to talk of their numbers was 
nonsense—the more the merrier !—that for his part he was deter¬ 
mined to pursue without a moment’s delay, and did not doubt that 
there were brave men enough on the ground to enable him to attack 
them with effect.” McGary declared, “ that he felt somewhat 


BOONE. 


313 


nettled at the manner in which his advice had been received; that 
he thought Todd and Trigg jealous of Logan, who, as senior Colo¬ 
nel, would be entitled to the command upon his arrival; and that, 
in their eagerness to have the honor of the victory to themselves, 
they were rashly throwing themselves into a condition, which would 
endanger the safety of the country. However, sir, (continued he, 
with an air of unamiable triumph,) when l saw the gentlemen so keen 
for a fight, I gave way, and joined in the pursuit, as willingly as 
any ; but when we came in sight of the enemy, and the gentlemen 
began to talk of ‘numbers,’ ‘ position,’ ‘Logan,’ and ‘ waiting,’ I 

burst into a passion, d-d them for a set of cowards, who could 

not be wise until they were scared into it, and swore that since they 
had come so far for a fight, they should fight, or I would disgrace 
them for ever ! That when I spoke of waiting for Logan on the day 
before, they had scouted the idea, and hinted something about 
‘ courage,’—that now it would be shown who had courage, or who 

were d-d cowards, that could talk big when the enemy were at 

a distance, but turned pale when danger was near. I then dashed 
into the river, and called upon all who were not cowards to follow 1” 
The gentleman upon whose authority this is given added, that even 
then, McGary spoke with bitterness of the deceased Colonels, and 
swore that they had received just what they deserved, and that he 
for one was glad of it. 

That the charge of McGary, in its full extent, was unjust, there 
can be no doubt; at the same time, it is in accordance with the 
known principles of human nature, to suppose that the natural a*dor 
of the officers—both young men—should be stimulated by the hope 
of gaining a victory, the honor of which would be given them as 
commanders. The number of the Indians was not distinctly known, 
and if their retreat had been ordinarily precipitate, they would cer¬ 
tainly have crossed the Ohio before Logan could have joined. But, 
leaving all the facts to speak for themselves, we will proceed with 
our narrative. 

On the very day on which this rash and unfortunate battle was 
fought, Col. Logan arrived at Bryant’s station at the head of no less 
than four hundred and fifty men. He here learned that the little 
army had marched on the preceding day, without waiting for so 
strong and necessary a reinforcement. Fearful of some such disas¬ 
ter as had actually occurred, he urged his march with the utmost 
diligence, still hoping to overtake them before they could cross the 
Ohio ; but within a few miles of the fort, he encountered the fore¬ 
most of the fugitives, whose jaded horses, and harassed looks, an¬ 
nounced but too plainly the event of the battle. As usual with men 
after a defeat, they magnified the number of the enemy and the 
slaughter of their comrades. None knew the actual extent of their 
loss. They could only be certain of their own escape, and could 
give no account of their companions. Fresh stragglers constantly 
came up, with the same mournful intelligence; so that Logan, after 
some hesitation, determined to return to Bryant’s until all the sur- 



314 


BOONE. 


vivors should come up. In the course of the evening, both horse 
and foot were reassembled at Bryant’s, and the loss was distinctly 
ascertained. Although sufficiently severe, it was less than Logan 
had at first apprehended; and having obtained all the information 
which could be collected, as to the strength and probable destination 
of the enemy, he determined to continue his march to the battle 
ground, with the hope that success would embolden the enemy, and 
induce them to remain until his arrival. On the second day he 
reached the field. The enemy were gone, but the bodies of the 
Kentuckians still lay unburied, on the spot where they had fallen. 
Immense flocks of buzzards were soaring over the battle ground, and 
the bodies of the dead had become so much swollen and disfigured, 
that it was impossible to recognize the features ot their most particu¬ 
lar friends. Many corses were floating near the shore of the nor ¬ 
thern bank, already putrid from the action of the sun, and partially 
eaten by fishes. The whole were carefully collected, by order of 
Col. Logan, and interred as decently as the nature of the soil would 
permit. Being satisfied that the Indians were by this time far be¬ 
yond his reach, he then retraced his steps to Bryant’s station and 
dismissed his men. 

As soon as intelligence of the battle of the Blue Licks reached 
Col. George Rogers Clark, who then resided at the falls of Ohio, he 
determined to set on foot an expedition against the Indian towns, for 
the purpose, both of avenging the loss of the battle, and rousing 
the spirit of the country, which had begun to sink into the deepest 
dejection. He proposed that one thousand men should be raised 
from all parts of Kentucky, and should rendezvous at Cincinnati, 
under the command of their respective officers, where he engaged to 
meet them at the head of a part of the Illinois regiment, then under 
his command, together with one brass field piece, which was regar¬ 
ded by the Indians with superstitious terror. The offer was em¬ 
braced with great alacrity; and instant measures were taken for the 
collection of a sufficient number of volunteers. 

The whole force of the interior was assembled, under the com¬ 
mand of Col. Logan, and descending the Licking in boats prepared 
for the purpose, arrived safely at the designated point of union, 
where they were joined by Clark, with the volunteers and regular 
detachment from below. No provision was made for the subsistence 
of the troops, and the sudden concentration of one thousand men and 
horses upon a single point, rendered it extremely difficult to procure 
the necessary supplies. The woods abounded in game—but the 
rapidity and secrecy of their march, which was absolutely essential 
to the success of the expedition, did not allow them to disperse in 
search of it. They suffered greatly, therefore, from hunger as well 
as fatigue; but all being accustomed to privations of every kind, 
they prosecuted their march with unabated rapidity, and appeared 
within a mile of one of their largest villages, without encountering a 
single Indian. Here, unfortunately, a straggler fell in with them, 
and instantly fled to the village, uttering the alarm whoop repeatedly 


BOOXE. 


315 


in the shrillest and most startling tones. The troops pressed for¬ 
ward with great despatch, and entering their town, found it totally 
deserted. The houses had evidently been abandoned only a few 
minutes before their arrival. Fires were burning, meat was upon 
the roasting sticks, and corn was still boiling in their kettles. The 
provisions were a most acceptable treat to the Kentuckians, who 
were well nigh famished, but the escape of their enemies excited 
deep and universal chagrin. 

After refreshing themselves, they engaged in the serious business 
of destroying the property of the tribes with unrelenting severity.— 
Their villages were burnt, their corn cut up, and their whole country 
laid waste. During the whole of this severe, but necessary occupa¬ 
tion, scarcely an Indian was to be seen. The alarm had spread 
universally, and every village was found deserted. Occasionally, a 
solitary Indian would crawl up wjlhin gunshot, and deliver his fire; 
and once a small party, mounted upon superb horses, rode up with 
great audacity, within musket shot, and took a leisurely survey of 
the whole army, but upon seeing a detachment preparing to attack 
them, they galloped off with a rapidity that baffled pursuit. 

Boone accompanied this expedition, but, as usual, has omitted 
every thing which relates to himself. Here the brief memoir of 
Boone closes. It does not appear that he was afterwards engaged in 
any public expedition or solitary adventure. He continued a highly 
respectable citizen of Kentucky for several years, until the country 
became too thickly settled for his taste. As refinement of manners 
advanced, and the general standard of intelligence became elevated 
by the constant arrival of families of rank and influence, the rough 
old woodsman found himself entirely out of his element. He could 
neither read nor write—the all-engaging subject of politics, which 
soon began to agitate the country with great violence, was to him as 
a sealed book or an unknown language, and for several years he 
wandered among the living group which thronged the court yard or 
the churches, like a venerable relict of other days. He was among 
them, but not of them ! He pined in secret for the wild and lonely 
forests of the west—for the immense prairie, trodden oidy by the 
buffalo, or the elk, and became eager to exchange the listless langor 
and security of a village, for the healthful exercises of the chase, or 
the more thrilling excitement of savage warfare. 

In 1792 , he dictated his brief and rather dry memoirs to some 
young gentleman who could write, and who has garnished it with a 
few flourishes of rhetoric, which passed off upon the old woodsman 
as a precious morsel of eloquence. He was never more gratified than 
when he could sit and hear it read to him, by some one who was 
willing at so small an expense to gratify the harmless vanity of the 
kind hearted old pioneer. He would listen with great earnestness, 
and occasionally rub his hands, smile, and ejaculate, “all true! 
every word true !—not a lie in it! ” He shortly afterwards left 
Kentucky, and removed to Louisiana. Hunting was his daily 
amusement, and almost his only occupation. Until the day of his 
27 * 


316 


BOONE. 


death, (and he lived to an unusually advanced age,) he was in the 
habit of remaining for days at a time in the forest, at a distance from 
the abodes of men, armed with a rifle, hatchet, knife, and having 
flints and steel to enable him to kindle a fire, and broil the wild 
game upon which he depended for subsistence. When too old to 
walk through the woods, as w r as his custom when young, he would 
ride to a lick, and there lay in ambush all day, for the sake of getting 
a shot at the herds of deer that were accustomed to visit the spot, 
for the sake of the salt. We have heard that he died in the woods, 
while lying in ambush near a lick, but have not at present the means 
of ascertaining with certainty the manner of his death. He has left 
behind him a name strongly written in the annals of Kentucky, and 
a reputation for calm courage, softened by humanity, conducted by- 
prudence, and embellished by a singular modesty of deportment. 
His person was rough, robust, and indicating strength rather than 
activity; his manner was cold, grave and taciturn ; his countenance 
homely, but kind; his conversation unadorned, unobtrusive, and 
touching only upon the “ needful.” He never spoke of himself, un¬ 
less particularly questioned ; but the written account of his life was 
the Delilah of his imagination. The idea of “ seeing his name in 
print,” completely overcame the cold philosophy of his general man¬ 
ner, and he seemed to think it a masterpiece of composition. 


SKETCH 

OF THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 

SIMON KENTON. 


Simon Kenton was born in Fauquier county, Virginia, on the 
15th of May, 1755, the ever memorable year of Braddock’s defeat. 
Of his early years nothing is known. His parents were poor, and 
until the age of sixteen, his days seem to have passed away in the 
obscure and laborious drudgery of a farm. He was never taught to 
read or write, and to this early negligence or inability on the part of 
his parents, is the poverty and desolation of his old age, in a great 
measure to be attributed. At the age of sixteen, by an unfortunate 
adventure, he was launched into life, with no other fortune, than a 
stout heart, and a robust set of limbs. It seems that, young as he 
was, his heart had become entangled in the snares of a young 
coquette in the neighborhood, who was grievously perplexed by the 
necessity of choosing one husband out of many lovers. Young 
Kenton and a robust farmer by the name of Leitchman, seem to have 
been the most favored suitors, and the young lady, not being able 
to decide upon their respective merits, they took the matter into 
their own hands, and, in consequence of foul play on the part of 
Leitchman’s friends, young Kenton was beaten with great severity. 
He submitted to his fate, for the time, in silence, but internally 
vowed, that as soon as he had obtained his full growth, he would 
take ample vengeance upon his rival, for the disgrace he had 
sustained at his hands. He waited patiently until the following 
spring, when finding himself six feet high, and full of health and 
action, he determined to delay the hour of retribution no longer. 

He accordingly walked over to Leitchman’s house one morning, 
and funding him busily engaged in carrying shingles from the woods, 
to his own house, he stopped him, told him his object, and desired 
him to adjourn to a spot more convenient for the purpose. Leitch¬ 
man, confident in his superior age and strength, was not backward 
in testifying his willingness to indulge him in so amiable a pastime, 
and having reached a solitary spot in the wood, they both stripped 
and prepared for the encounter. The battle was fought with all the 
fury which mutual hate, jealousy, and herculean power on both 
sides, could supply, and after a severe round, in which considerable 


318 


KENTON. 


damage was done and received, Kenton was brought to the ground. 
Leitcliman (as usual in Virginia) sprung upon him without the least 
scruple, and added the most bitter taunts, to the kicks with which he 
saluted him, from his head to his heels, reminding him of his former 
defeat, and rubbing salt into the raw wounds of jealousy, by triumphant 
allusions to his own superiority both in love and war. During these 
active operations on the part of Leitchman, Kenton lay perfectly still, 
eying attentively a small bush which grew near them. It instantly 
occurred to him, that if he could wind Leitchman’s hair, (which was 
remarkably long,) around this bush, he would be able to return those 
kicks which were now bestowed upon him ia such profusion. The 
difficulty was to get his antagonist near enough. This he at length 
effected in the good old Virginia style, viz : by biting him en arriere, 
and compelling him, by short springs, to approach the bush, much 
as a bullock is goaded on to approach the fatal ring, where all his 
struggles are useless. When near enough, Kenton suddenly exerted 
himself violently, and succeeded in wrapping the long hair of his 
rival around the sapling. He then sprung to his feet, and inflicted 
a terrible revenge for all his past injuries. In a few seconds Leitch¬ 
man was gasping, apparently in the agonies of death. Kenton 
instantly fled, without even returning for an additional supply of 
clothing, and directed his steps westward. 

During the first day of his journey, he travelled in much agitation, 
lie supposed that Leitchman was dead, and that the hue and crv 
would instantly be raised after himself as the murderer. The con¬ 
stant apprehension of a gallows, lent wings to his flight, and he 
scarcely allowed himself a moment for refreshment, until he hail 
reached the neighborhood of the Warm Springs, where the settle¬ 
ments were thin and the immediate danger of pursuit was over. 
Here, he fortunately fell in with an exile from the state of New 
Jersey, of the name of Johnson, who was travelling westward on 
foot, and driving a single pack horse, laden with a few necessaries, 
before him. They soon became acquainted, related their adventures 
to each other, and agreed to travel together. They plunged boldly 
into the wilderness of the Alleghany mountains, and subsisting upon 
wild game and a small quantity of flour, which Johnson had brought 
with him, they made no halt until they arrived at a small settlement 
on Cheat river, one of the prongs of the Monongahela. Her? the 
two friends separated, and Kenton, (who had assumed the name of 
Butler,) attached himself to a small company headed by John Mahon 
and Jacob Greathouse, who had united for the purpose of exploring 
the country. They quickly built a large canoe, and descended the 
river as far as the Province’s settlement. There Kenton became 
acquainted with two young adventurers, Yager and Strader, the 
former of whom had been taken by the Indians when a child, and 
had spent many years in their village. He informed Kenton that 
there was a country below, which the Indians called Kan-tuck-ee, 
which was a perfect Elysium : that the ground was not only the 
richest, and the vegetation the most luxuriant in the world, but 


KENTON 1 . 


319 


that the immense beards of buffalo and elk, which ranged at large 
through its forests, would appear incredible to one who had never 
witnessed such a spectacle. He added, that it was entirely unin¬ 
habited, and was open to all who chose to hunt there ; that he him¬ 
self had often accompanied the Indians in their grand hunting parties 
through the country, and was confident that he could conduct him 
to the same ground, if he was willing to venture. 

Kenton closed with the proposal, and announced his readiness to 
accompany him immediately. A canoe was speedily procured, and 
the three young men committed themselves to the waters of the 
Ohio, in search of the enchanted hunting ground, which Yager had 
visited in his youth, while a captive among the Indians. Yager 
had no idea of its exact distance from Province’s settlement. He 
recollected only that he had crossed the Ohio in order to reach it, 
and declared that, by sailing down the river for a few days, they 
would come to the spot where the Indians were accustomed to cross, 
and assured Kenton that there would be no difficulty in recog¬ 
nizing it, that its appearance was different from all the rest of the 
world, &c. &c. 

Fired by Yager’s glowing description of its beauty, and eager to 
reach this new El Dorado of the west, the young men rowed hard 
for several days, confidently expecting that every bend of the river 
would usher them into the land of promise. No such country, 
however, appeared; and at length Kenton and Strader became 
rather sceptical as to its existence at all. They rallied Yager freely 
upon the subject, who still declared positively that they would soon 
witness the confirmation of all that he had said. After descending, 
however, as low as the spot where Manchester now stands, and 
seeing nothing which resembled Yager’s country, they held a 
council, in which it was determined to return and survey the coun¬ 
try more carefully—Yager still insisting, that they must have passed 
it in the night. They accordingly retraced their steps, and succes¬ 
sively explored the land about Salt Lick, Little and Big Sandy, and 
Guyandotte. At length, being totally wearied out, in searching for 
what had no existence, they turned their attention entirely to hunting 
and trapping, and spent nearly two years upon the Great Kenawha, 
in this agreeable and profitable accupation. They obtained clothing 
in exchange for their furs, from the traders of Fort Pitt, and the 
forest supplied them abundantly with wild game for food. 

In March, 1773, while reposing in their tent, after the labors of 
the day, they were suddenly attacked by a party of Indians. Strader 
was killed at the first fire, and Kenton and Yager with difficult}' 
effected their escape, being compelled to abandon their guns, 
blankets, and provisions, and commit themselves to the wilderness, 
without the means of sheltering themselves from the cold, procuring 
a morsel of food, or even kindling a fire. They were far removed 
from any white settlement, and had no other prospect than that of 
perishing by famine, or falling a sacrifice to the fury of such Indians 
as might chance to meet them. Reflecting, however, that it was 


320 


KENTON. 


never too late for men to be utterly lost, they determined to strike 
through the woods for the Ohio river, and take such fortune as it 
should please heaven to bestow. 

Directing their route by the barks of trees, they pressed forward 
in a straight direction for the Ohio, and during the two first days 
allayed the piercing pangs of hunger by chewing such roots as they 
could find on their way. On the third day, their strength began to 
fail, and the keen appetite which at first had constantly tortured 
them, was succeeded by a nausea, accompanied with dizziness and 
sinking of the heart, bordering on despair. On tire fourth day, they 
often threw themselves upon the ground, determined to await the 
approach of death—and as often were stimulated by the instinctive 
love of life, to arise and resume their journey. On the fifth, they 
were completely exhausted, and were able only to crawl, at intervals. 
In this manner, they travelled about a mile during the day, and 
succeeded, by sunset, in reaching the banks of the Ohio. Here, to 
their inexpressible joy, they encountered a party of traders, from 
whom they obtained a comfortable supply of provisions. 

The traders were so much startled at the idea of being exposed to 
perils, such as those which Kenton and Yager had just escaped, 
that they lost no time in removing from such a dangerous vicinity, 
and instantly returned to the mouth of the Little Kenawha, where 
they met with Dr. Briscoe at the head of another exploring party. 
From him, Kenton obtained a rifle and some ammunition, with 
which he again plunged alone into the forest and hunted with success 
until the summer of ’73 was far advanced. Returning, then, to the 
Little Kenawha, he found a party of fourteen men under the direction 
of Dr. Wood and Hancock Lee, who were descending the Ohio 
with the view of joining Capt. Bullitt, who was supposed to be at 
the mouth ol Scioto, with a large party. Kenton instantly joined 
them, and descended the river in canoes as far as the Three Islands, 
landing frequently and examining the country on each side of the 
river. At the Three Islands they were alarmed by the approach of 
a large party of Indians, by whom they were compelled to abandon 
their canoes and strike diagonally through the wilderness for Green- 
briar county, Virginia. They suffered much during this journey 
from fatigue and famine, and were compelled at one time (nothwith- 
standing the danger of their situation,) to halt lor fourteen days and 
wait upon Dr. VVood, who had unfortunately been bitten by a copper¬ 
head snake and rendered incapable of moving for that length of time. 
Upon reaching the settlements the party separated. 

Kenton, not wishing to venture to Virginia, (having heard nothing 
of Leitchman’s recovery,) built a canoe on the banks of the Monon- 
gahela, and returned to the mouth of the Great Kenawha, hunted 
with success until the spring of ’74, when a war broke out between 
the Indian tribes and the colonies, occasioned, in a great measure, by 
the murder of the family of the celebrated Indian Chief, Logan. 
Kenton was not in the great battle near the mouth of the Kenawha, 
but acted as a spy throughout the whole of the campaign, in the 


KENTON. 


321 


course of which, he traversed the country around Fort Pitt, and a 
large pari of the present state of Ohio. 

When Dunmore’s forces were disbanded, Kenton, in company 
with two others, determined on making a second effort to discover 
the rich lands bordering on the Ohio, of which Yager had spoken. 
Having built a canoe, and provided themselves abundantly with 
ammunition, they descended the river as far as the mouth of Big Bone 
Creek, upon which the celebrated Lick of that name is situated. 
They there disembarked, and explored the country for several days; 
but not finding the land equal to their expectations, they reascended 
the river as far as the mouth of Cabin Creek, a few miles above 
Maysville. 

From this point, they set out with a determination to examine the 
country carefully, until they could find land answering in some 
degree to Yager’s description. In a short time, they reached the 
neighborhood of Mayslick, and for the first time were struck with 
the uncommon beauty of the country and fertility of the soil. Here 
they fell in with the great buffalo trace, which in a few hours, 
brought them to the Lower Blue Lick. The flats upon each side 
of the river were crowded with immense herds of buffalo, that had 
come down from the interior for the sake of the salt, and a number 
of elk were seen upon the bare ridges which surrounded the springs. 
Their great object was now achieved. They had discovered a 
country far more rich than any which they had yet beheld, and 
where the game seemed as abundant as the grass of the plain. 

After remaining a few’ days at the Lick, and killing an immense 
number of deer and buffalo, they crossed the Licking, and passed 
through the present counties of Scott, Fayette, Woodford, Clarke, 
Montgomery and Bath, when, falling in with another buffalo trace, 
it conducted them to the Upper Blue Lick, where they again beheld 
elk and buffalo in immense numbers. Highly gratified at the success 
of their expedition, they quickly returned to their canoe, and ascen¬ 
ded the river as far as Green Bottom, where they had left their skins, 
some ammunition, and a few hoes, which they had procured at 
Kenawha, with the view of cultivating the rich ground which they 
expected to find. 

Returning as quickly as possible, they built a cabin on the spot 
where the town of Washington now stands, and having cleared an 
acre of ground, in the centre of a large canebrake, they planted it 
with Indian corn. Strolling about the country in various directions, 
they one day fell in with two white men, near the Lower Blue Lick, 
who had lost their guns, blankets, and ammunition, and were much 
distressed for provisions and the means of extricating themselves 
from the wilderness. They informed them that their names were 
Fitzpatrick and Hendricks; that, in descending the Ohio, their 
canoe had been overset by a sudden squall ; and that they were com¬ 
pelled to swim ashore, without being able to save any thing from 
the wreck ; that they had wandered thus far through the woods, in 
the effort to penetrate through the country, to the settlements above, 


322 


KENTON. 


but must infallibly perish, unless they could be furnished with guns 
and ammunition. Kenton informed them of the small settlement 
which he had opened at Washington, and invited them to join him 
and share such fortune as Providence might bestow. Hendricks 
consented to remain, but Fitzpatrick, being heartily sick of the 
woods, insisted upon returning to the Monongahela. Kenton and 
his two friends, accompanied Fitzpatrick to “ the point,” as it was 
then called, being the spot where Maysville now stands, and having 
given him a gun, &c., assisted him in crossing the river, and took 
leave of him on the other side. 

In the mean time, Hendricks had been left at the Blue Lick, with¬ 
out a gun, but with a good supply of provisions, until the party 
could return from the river. As soon as Fitzpatrick had gone, 
Kenton and his two frinds hastened to return to the Lick, not doubt¬ 
ing for a moment, that they would find Hendricks in camp as they 
had left him. Upon arriving at the point where the tent had stood, 
however, they were alarmed at finding it deserted, with evident 
marks of violence around it. Several bullet holes were to be seen 
in the poles of which it was constructed, and various articles belong¬ 
ing to Hendricks, were tossed about in too negligent a manner, to 
warrant the belief that it had been done by him. At a little distance 
from the camp, in a low ravine, they observed a thick smoke, as if 
from a fire just beginning to burn. They did not doubt for a mo¬ 
ment, that Hendricks had fallen into the hands of the Indians, and 
believing that a party of them were then assembled around the fire 
which was about to be kindled, they betook themselves to their 
heels, and fled faster and farther than true chivalry perhaps would 
justify. They remained at a distance until the evening of the next 
day, when they ventured cautiously to return to camp. The fire 
was still burning, although faintly, and after carefully reconnoitering 
the adjacent ground, they ventured at length to approach the spot, 
and there beheld the skull and bones of their unfortunate friend !. 
He had evidently been roasted to death by a party of Indians, and 
must have been alive at the time when Kenton and his companion 
approached on the preceding day. It was a subject of deep regret 
to the party, that they had not reconnoitered the spot more closely, 
as it was probable that their friend might have been rescued. The 
number of Indians might have been small, and a brisk and unexpec¬ 
ted attack might have dispersed them. Regret, however, was now 
unavailing, and they sadly retraced their steps to their camp at 
Washington, pondering upon the uncertainty of their own condition, 
and upon the danger to which they were hourly exposed from the 
numerous bands of hostile Indians, who were prowling around them 
in every direction. 

They remained at Washington, entirely undisturbed, until the 
month of September, when again visiting the Lick, they saw a 
white man, who informed them that the interior of the country was 
already occupied by the whites, and that there was a thriving settle¬ 
ment at Boonsborough. Highly gratified at this intelligence, and 


KENTON. 


323 


anxious once more to enjoy the society of men, they broke up their 
encampment at Washington, and visited the different stations which 
had been formed in the country. Kenton sustained two sieges in 
Boonsborough, and served as a spy, with equal diligence and success, 
until the summer of ’78, when Boone, returning from captivity, as 
has already been mentioned, concerted an expedition against the 
small Indian town on Paint Creek. Kenton acted as a spy on this 
expedition, and after crossing the Ohio, being some distance in ad¬ 
vance of the rest, he was suddenly startled by hearing a loud laugh 
from an adjoining thicket, which he was just about to enter. In¬ 
stantly hailing, he took his station behind a tree, and waited anx¬ 
iously for a repetition of the noise. In a few minutes, two Indians 
approached the spot where he lay, both mounted upon a small 
poney, and chatting and laughing in high good humor. Having 
permitted them to approach within good rifle distance, he raised his 
gun, and aiming at the breast of the foremost, pulled the trigger. 
Both Indians fell—one shot dead, the other severely wounded. 
Their frightened poney galloped back into the cane, giving the alarm 
to the rest of the party, who were some distance in the rear. Ken¬ 
ton instantly ran up to scalp the dead man and to tomahawk his 
wounded companion, according to the usual rule of western warfare ; 
hut, when about to put an end to the struggles of the wounded Indian, 
who did not seem disposed to submit very quietly to the operation, 
his attention was arrested b) T a rustling in the cane on his right, and 
turning rapidly in that direction, he beheld two Indians within 
twenty steps of him, very deliberately taking aim at his person. A 
quick spring to one side, on his part, was instantly followed by the 
flash and report of their rifles—the balls whistled close to his ears, 
causing him involuntarily to duck his head, but doing him no injury. 
Not liking so hot a neighborhood, and ignorant of the number which 
might yet be behind, he lost no lime in regaining the shelter of the 
wood, leaving the dead Indian unscalped and the wounded man to 
the care of his friends. Scarcely had he treed, when a dozen 
Indians appeared on the edge of the canebrake, and seemed disposed 
to press upon him with more vigor than was consistent with the 
safety of his present position. IIis fears, however, were instantly 
relieved by the appearance of Boone and his party, who came run¬ 
ning up as rapidly as a due regard for the shelter of their persons 
would permit, and opening a brisk fire upon the Indians, quickly 
compelled them to regain the shelter of the canebrake, with the loss 
of several wounded, who, as usual, were carried off. The dead In¬ 
dian, in the hurry of the retreat, was abandoned, and Kenton at last 
had the gratification of taking his scalp ! 

Boone, as has already been mentioned, instantly retraced his steps 
to Boonsborough ; but Kenton and his friend Montgomery, deter¬ 
mined to proceed alone to the Indian town, and at least obtain some 
recompense for the trouble of their journey. Approaching the 
village with the cautious and stealthy pace of the cat or panther, 
they took their stations upon the edge of the cornfield, supposing 


324 


KENTON. 


that the Indians would enter it as usual to gather roasting ears. 
They remained here patiently all day, but did not see a single In¬ 
dian, and heard only the voices of some children who were playing 
near them. Being disappointed in the hope of getting a shot, they 
entered the Indian town in the night, and stealing four good horses, 
made a rapid night’s march for the Ohio, which they crossed in 
safety, and on the second day afterwards reached Logan’s fort with 
their booty. 

Scarcely had he returned, when Col. Bowman ordered him to 
take his friend Montgomery, and another young man named Clark, 
and go on a secret expedition to an Indian town on the Little Miami, 
against which the Colonel meditated an expedition, and of the exact 
condition of which he wished to have certain information. They 
instantly sat out, in obedience to their orders, and reached the neigh¬ 
borhood of the town without being discovered. They examined it 
attentively, and walked around the houses during the night with 
perfect impunity. Thus far all had gone well—and had they been 
contented to return after the due execution of their orders, they 
would have avoided the heavy calamity which awaited them. But, 
unfortunately, during their nightly promenade, they stumbled upon 
a pound in which were a number of Indian horses. The temptation 
was not to be resisted. They each mounted a horse, but not satis¬ 
fied with that, they could not find it in their hearts to leave a single 
animal behind them, and as some of the horses seemed indisposed 
to change masters, the affair was attended with so much fracas, that 
at last they were discovered. The cry ran through the village at 
once, that the Long Knives were stealing their horses right before 
the doors of their wigwams, and old and young, squaws, boys and 
warriors, all sallied out with loud screams to save their property 
from these greedy spoilers. Kenton and his friends quickly disco¬ 
vered that they had overshot the mark, and that they must ride for 
their lives ; but even in this extremity, they could not bring them¬ 
selves to give up a single horse which they had haltered, and while 
two of them rode in front and led, I know not how many horses, 
the other brought up the rear, and plying his whip from right to left, 
did not permit a single animal to lag behind. In this manner they 
dashed through the woods at a furious rate, with the hue and cry 
after them, until their course was suddenly stopped by an impene¬ 
trable swamp. Here, from necessity, they paused for a few mo¬ 
ments and listened attentively. Hearing no sounds of pursuit, they 
resumed their course, and skirting the swamp for some distance, in 
the vain hope of crossing it, they bent their course in a straight 
direction towards the Ohio. They rode during the whole night 
without resting a moment—and halting for a few minutes at daylight, 
they continued their journey throughout the day, and the whole of 
the following night, and by this uncommon expedition, on the 
morning of the second day they reached the northern bank of the 
Ohio. Crossing the river would now ensure their safety, but this 
was likely to prove a difficult undertaking, and the close pursuit 


KENTON. 


325 


which they had reason to expect, rendered it necessary to lose as 
little time as possible. The wind was high and the river rough and 
boisterous. It was determined that Kenton should cross with the 
horses, while Clark and Montgomery should construct a raft in order 
to transport their guns, baggage and ammunition to the opposite 
shore. The necessary preparations were soon made, and Kenton, 
after forcing his horses into the river, plunged in himself and swam 
by their side. In a very few minutes the high waves completely 
overwhelmed him and forced him considerably below the horses, 
which stemmed the current much more vigorously than himself.— 
The horses being thus left to themselves, turned about and swam 
again to the Ohio shore, where Kenton was compelled to follow 
them. Again he forced them into the water, and again they returned 
to the same spot, until Kenton became so exhausted by repeated 
efforts as to be unable to swim. A council was then held and the 
question proposed, “ what was to be done ? ” That the Indians 
would pursue them, was certain—that the horses would not, and 
could not be made to cross the river in its present state, was equally 
certain. Should they abandon their horses and cross on the raft, or 
remain with their horses and take such fortune as heaven should 
send? The latter alternative was unanimously adopted. Death or 
captivity might be tolerated—but to lose so beautiful a lot of horses, 
after having worked so hard for them, was not to be thought of for 
a moment. 

As soon as it was determined that themselves and horses were to 
share the same fate, it again became necessary to fix upon some 
probable plan of saving them. Should they move up or down the 
river, or remain where they were ? The latter course was adopted* 
It was supposed that the wind would fall at sunset, and the river 
become sufficiently calm to admit of their passage, and as it was 
supposed probable that the Indians might be upon them before night, 
it was determined to conceal the horses in a neighboring ravine, 
while they should take their stations in the adjoining wood. A 
more miserable plan could not have been adopted. If they could 
not consent to sacrifice their horses, in order to save their own lives, 
they should have moved either up or down the river, and thus have 
preserved the distance from the Indians which their rapidity of 
movement had gained. The Indians would have followed their 
trail, and being twenty-four hours march behind them, could never 
have overtaken them. But neglecting this obvious consideration, 
they stupidly sat down until sunset, expecting that the river would 
become more calm. The day passed away in tranquility, but at 
night the wind blew harder than ever, and the water became so 
rough, that even their raft would have been scarcely able to cross. 
Not an instant more should have been lost, in moving from so dan¬ 
gerous a post; but, as if totally infatuated, they remained where 
they were until morning—.thus wasting twenty-four hours of most 
precious time in total idleness. In the morning the wind abated, 
and the river became calm—but it was now too late. Their horses. 


326 


KENTON. 


recollecting the difficulty of the passage oil the preceding day, had 
become as obstinate and heedless as their masters, and positively 
and repeatedly refused to take the water. Finding every effort to 
compel them entirely unavailing, their masters at length determined 
to do what ought to have been done at first. Each resolved to mount 
a horse and make the best of his way down the river to Louisville. 
Had even this resolution, however tardily adopted, been executed 
with decision, the party would probably have been saved, but after 
they were mounted, instead of leaving the ground instantly, they 
went back upon their own trail, in the vain effort to regain posses¬ 
sion of the rest of their horses, which had broken from them in the 
last effort to drive them into the water. They wearied out their 
good genius, and literally fell victims to their love for horse-flesh. 
They had scarcely ridden one hundred yards, (Kenton in the centre, 
the others upon the flanks, with an interval of two hundred yards 
between them,) when Kenton heard a loud halloo, apparently com¬ 
ing from the spot which they had just left. Instead of getting out 
of the way as fast as possible, and trusting to the speed of his horse 
and the thickness of the wood for safety, he put the last capping 
stone to his imprudence, and dismounting, walked leisurely back to 
meet his pursuers, and thus give them as little trouble as possible. 
He quickly beheld three Indians and one white man, all well moun¬ 
ted. Wishing to give the alarm to his companions, he raised his 
rifle to his shoulder, took a steady aim at the breast of the foremost 
Indian, and drew the trigger. His gun had become wet on the raft, 
and flashed. The enemy were instantly alarmed, and dashed at 
him. Now, at last, when flight could be of no service, Kenton be¬ 
took himself to his heels, and was pursued by four horsemen at full 
speed. He instantly directed his steps to the thickest part of the 
wood, where there was much fallen timber and rank growth of un¬ 
derwood, and had succeeded, as he thought, in baffling his pursuers, 
when, just as he was leaving the fallen limber and entering the open 
wood, an Indian on horseback galloped round the corner of the wood, 
and approached him so rapidly as to render flight useless. The 
horseman rode up, holding out his hand and calling out “ brother! 
brother ! ” in a tone of great affection. Kenton observes that if his 
gun would have made fire he would have “ brothered ” him to his 
heart’s content, but being totally unarmed, he called out that he 
would surrender if they would give him quarter and good treatment. 
Promises were cheap with the Indian, and he showered them out by 
the dozen, continuing all the while to advance with extended hands 
and a writhing grin upon his countenance, which was intended for a 
smile of courtesy. Seizing Kenton’s hand, he grasped it with vio¬ 
lence. Kenton, not liking the manner of his captor, raised his gun 
to knock him down, when an Indian who had followed him closely 
through the brushwood, instantly sprung upon his back and pinioned 
his arms to his side. The one who had just approached him then 
seized him by the hair and shook him until his teeth rattled, while 
the rest of the party coming up, they all fell upon Kenton with their 


KENTON. 


327 


tongues and ramrods, until he thought they would scold or beat him 
to death. They were the owners of the horses which he had carried 
off, and now took ample revenge for the loss of their property. At 
every stroke of their ramrods over his head, (and they were neither 
few nor far between,) they would repeat, in a tone of strong indig¬ 
nation, “ steal Indian boss !! hey !! ” 

Their attention, however, was soon directed to Montgomery, who, 
having heard the noise attending Kenton’s capture, very gallantly 
hastened up to his assistance ; while Clark very prudently consulted 
his own safety by betaking himself to his heels, leaving his unfortu¬ 
nate companions to shift for themselves. Montgomery halted within 
gunshot and appeared busy with the pan of his gun as if preparing 
to fire. Two Indians instantly sprung off in pursuit of him, while 
the rest attended to Kenton. In a few minutes Kenton heard the 
crack of two rifles in quick succession, followed by a halloo, which 
announced the fate of his friend. The Indians quickly returned, 
waving the bloody scalp of Montgomery, and with countenances and 
gestures which menaced him with a similar fate. They then pro¬ 
ceeded to secure their prisoner. They first compelled him to lie 
upon his back, and stretch out his arms to their full length. They 
then passed a stout stick at right angles across his breast, to each 
extremity of which his wrists were fastened by thongs made of buf¬ 
falo’s hide. Stakes were then driven into the earth near his feet to 
which they were fastened in a similar manner. A halter was then 
tied around his neck and fastened to a sapling which grew near, and 
finally a strong rope was passed under his body, lashed strongly to 
the pole which lay transversely upon his breast, and finally wrapped 
around his arms at the elbows, in such a manner as to pinion them 
to the pole with a painful violence, and render him literally incapa¬ 
ble of moving hand, foot, or head, in the slightest manner. 

During the whole of this severe operation, neither their tongues 
nor hands were by any means idle. They cuffed him from time to 
time, with great heartiness, until his ears rang again, and abused 
him for “ a teef!—a hoss steal!—a rascal!” and finally for a “ d—d 
white man !” I may here observe, that all the western Indians had 
picked up a good many English words—particularly our oaths, 
which, from the frequency with which they were used by our hun¬ 
ters and traders, they probably looked upon as the very root and 
foundation of the English language. Kenton remained in this pain¬ 
ful attitude throughout the night, looking forward to certain death, 
and most probably torture, as soon as he should reach their towns. 
Their rage against him seemed to increase rather than abate, from 
indulgence, and in the morning it displayed itself in a form at once 
ludicrous and cruel. Among the horses which Kenton had taken, 
and which their original owners had now recovered, was a fine but 
wild young colt, totally unbroken, and with all his honors of mane 
and tail undocked. Upon him Kenton was mounted, without saddle 
or bridle, with his hands tied behind him, and his feet fastened under 
the horse’s belly. The country was rough and bushy, and Kenton 
28 * 


328 


KENTON. 


had no means of protecting his face from the brambles, through 
which it was expected that the colt would dash. As soon as the 
rider was firmly fastened to his back, the colt was turned loose with 
a sudden lash, but after exerting a few curvetts and caprioles, to the 
great distress of his rider, but the infinite amusement of the Indians, 
he appeared to take compassion upon his rider, and falling into a 
line with the other horses, avoided the brambles entirely, and went 
on very well. In this manner he rode through the day. At night 
he was taken from the horse and confined as before. 

On the third day, they came within a few miles of Chillicotlie. 
Here the party halted and dispatched a messenger to inform the 
village of their arrival, in order, I suppose, to give them time to 
prepare for his reception. In a short time Blackfish, one of their 
chiefs, arrived, and regarding Kenton with a stern countenance, 
thundered out in very good English, “ You have been stealing 
horses?” “Yes, sir.” “Did Capt. Boone tell you to steal our 
horses ?” “ No, sir : I did it of my own accord.” This frank con¬ 

fession was too irritating to be borne. Blackfish made no reply, 
but brandishing a hickory switch, which he held in his hand, he 
applied it so briskly to Kenton’s naked back and shoulders, as to 
bring the blood freely,,and occasion acute pain. 

Thus alternately beaten and scolded, he marched on to the village. 
At the distance of a mile from Chillicotlie, he saw every inhabitant 
of the town, men, women and children, running out to feast their 
eyes with a view of the prisoner. Every individual, down to the 
smallest child, appeared in a paroxism of rage. They whooped, 
they yelled, they hooted, they clapped their hands, and poured upon 
him a flood of abuse to which all that he had yet received, was gen¬ 
tleness and civility. With loud cries they demanded that their 
prisoner should be tied to the stake. The hint was instantly 
complied with. A stake was quickly fastened into the ground. 
The remnants of Kenton’s shirt and breeches were torn from his 
person, (the squaws officiating with great dexterity in both opera¬ 
tions,) and his hands, being tied together and raised above his head, 
were fastened to the top of the stake. The whole party then danced 
around him until midnight, yelling and screaming in their usual 
frantic manner, striking him with switches, and slapping him with 
the palms of their hands. He expected every moment to undergo 
the torture of fire, but that was reserved for another time. They 
wished to prolong the pleasure of tormenting him as much as possi¬ 
ble, and after having caused him to anticipate the bitterness of death, 
until a late hour of the night, they released him from his stake and 
conveyed him to the village. 

Early in the morning he beheld the scalp of Montgomery stretched 
upon a hoop, and drying in the air, before the door of one of their 
principal houses. He was quickly led out and ordered to run the 
gauntlet. A row of boys, women and men, extended to the distance 
of a quarter of a mile. At the starting place, stood two grim look¬ 
ing warriors, with butcher knives in their hands—at the extremity 


KENTON. 


329 


of the line, was an Indian beating a drum, and a few paces beyond 
the drum was the door of the council house. Clubs, switches, hoe- 
handles and tomahawks were brandished along the whole line, caus¬ 
ing the sweat involuntarily to stream from his pores, at the idea of 
the discipline which his naked skin was to receive during the race. 
The moment for starting arrived—the great drum at the door of the 
council house was struck—and Kenton sprung forward in the race.— 
He avoided the row of his enemies, and turning to the east, drew 
the whole party in pursuit of him. lie doubled several times with 
great activity, and at length observing an opening, he darted though 
it, and pressed forward to the council house with a rapidity which 
left his pursuers far behind. One or two of the Indians succeeded 
in throwing themselves between him and the goal—and from these 
alone, he received a few blows, but was much less injured than he 
could at first have supposed possible. 

As soon as the race was over, a council was held in order to 
determine whether he should be burnt to death on the spot, or carried 
round to the other villages, and exhibited to every tribe. The arbiters 
of his fate sat in a circle on the floor of the council house, while 
the unhappy prisoner, naked and bound, was committed to the care 
of a guard in the open air. The deliberation commenced. Each 
warrior sat in silence, while a large war club was passed round the 
circle. Those who were opposed to burning the prisoner on the 
spot, were to pass the club in silence to the next warrior, those in 
favor of burning, were to strike the earth violently with the club 
before passing it. A teller was appointed to count the votes. This 
dignitary quickly reported that the opposition had prevailed : that 
his execution was suspended for the present; and that it was deter¬ 
mined to take him to an Indian town on Mad river, called Waughco- 
tomoco. His fate was quickly announced to him by a renegado 
white man, who acted as interpreter. Kenton felt rejoiced at the 
issue—but naturally became anxious to know what was in reserve 
for him at Waughcotomoco. He accordingly asked the white man 
“ what the Indians intended to do with him, upon reaching tho 

appointed place?” “ Burn you ! G-d d-n you !! !” was 

the ferocious reply. He asked no further question, and the scowling 
interpreter walked away. 

Instantly preparations were made for his departure, and to his 
great joy, as well as astonishment, his clothes were restored to him, 
and he was permitted to remain unbound. Thanks to the ferocious 
intimation of the interpreter, he was aware of the fate in reserve for 
him, and secretly determined that he would never reach Waughcoto¬ 
moco alive if it was possible to avoid it. Their route lay through 
an unpruned forest, abounding in thickets and undergrowth. Unbound 
as he was, it would not be impossible to escape from the hands of 
his conductors ; and if he could once enter the thickets, he thought 
that he might be enabled to baffle his pursuers. At the worst, he 
could only be retaken—and the fire would burn no hotter after an 
attempt to escape, than before. During the whole of their march, 



330 


KENTON. 


he remained abstracted and silent—often meditating an effort for 
liberty, and as often shrinking from the peril of the attempt. 

At length he was aroused from his reverie, by the Indians firing 
off their guns, and raising the shrill scalp halloo. The signal was 
soon answered, and the deep roll of a drum was heard far in front, 
announcing to the unhappy prisoner, that they were approaching an 
Indian town where the gauntlet, certainly, and perhaps the stake 
awaited him. The idea of a repetition of the dreadful scenes which 
he had already encountered, completely banished the indecision 
which had hitherto withheld him, and with a sudden and startling 
cry, he sprung into the bushes and fled with the speed of a wild 
deer. The pursuit was instant and keen, some on foot, some on 
horseback. But he was flying for his life—the stake and the hot 
iron, and the burning splinters, were before his eyes, and he soon 
distanced the swiftest hunter that pursued him. But fate was against 
him at every turn. Thinking only of the enemy behind—he lorgot 
that there might also be enemies before—and before he was aware of 
what he had done, he found that he had plunged into the centre of 
a fresh party of horsemen, who had sallied from the town at the 
firing ol the guns, and happened unfortunately to stumble upon the 
poor prisoner, now making a last effort for freedom. IIis heart sunk 
at once from the ardor of hope, to the very pit ol despair, and he 
was again haltered and driven before them to town like an ox to the 
slaughter-house. 

Upon reaching the village, (Pickaway,) he was fastened to a stake 
near the door of the council house, and the warriors again assembled 
in debate. In a short time, they issued from the council house, and 
surrounding him, they danced, yelled, &c. for several hours, giving 
him once more a foretaste of the bitterness of death. On the follow¬ 
ing morning, their journey was continued, but the Indians had now 
become watchful, and gave him no opportunity of even attempting 
an escape. On the second day, he arrived at Waughcotomoco. 
Here lie was again compelled to run the gauntlet, in which he was 
severely hurt; and immediately after this ceremony, he was taken 
to the council house, and all the warriors once more assembled to 
determine his fate. 

He sat silent and dejected upon the floor of the cabin, awaiting 
the moment which was to deliver him to the stake, when the door 
of the council house opened, and Simon Girty, James Girty, John 
Ward and an Indian, came in with a woman (Mrs. Mary Kennedy,) 
as a prisoner, together with seven children and seven scalps. Ken¬ 
ton was instantly removed from the council house, and the delibera¬ 
tions of the assembly were protracted to a very late hour, in 
consequence of the arrival of the last named party with a fresh drove 
of prisoners. 

At length, he was again summoned to attend the council house, 
being informed that his fate was decided. Regarding the mandate 
as a mere prelude to the stake and fire, which he knew was intended 
for him, he obeyed it with the calm despair which had now 


KENTON. 


331 


succeeded the burning anxiety of the last few days. Upon entering 
the council house, he was greeted with a savage scowl, which, if he 
had still cherished a spark of hope, would have completely ex¬ 
tinguished it. Simon Girty threw a blanket upon the floor, and 
harshly ordered him to take a seat upon it. The order was not 
immediately complied with, and Girty impatiently seized his arm, 
jirked him roughly upon the blanket, and pulled him down upon it. 
In the same rough and menacing tone, Girty then interrogated him 
as to the condition of Kentucky. “ How many men are there in 
Kentucky?” “It is impossible forme to answer that question,” 
replied Kenton, “ but I can tell you the number of officers and their 
respective ranks,—you can then judge for yourself.” “ Do you 
know William Stewart? ” “ Perfectly well—he is an old and inti¬ 

mate acquaintance.” “What is your own name?” “Simon 
Butler!” replied Kenton. Never did the annunciation of a name 
produce a more powerful effect. Girty and Kenton (then bearing 
the name of Butler,) had served as spies together, in Dunmore’s 
expedition. The former had not then abandoned the society of the 
whites for that of the savages, and had become warml) attached to 
Kenton during the short period of their services together. As soon 
as he heard the name he became strongly agitated—and springing 
from his seat, he threw his arms around Kentonjt neck, and embraced 
him with much emotion. Then turning to the assembled warriors, 
who remained astonished spectators of this extraordinary scence, he 
addressed them in a short speech, which the deep earnestness of his 
tone, and the energy of his gesture, rendered eloquent. He inform¬ 
ed them that the prisoner, whom they had just condemned to the 
stake, was his ancient comrade and bosom friend : that they had 
travelled the same war path, slept upon the same blanket, and dwelt 
in the same wigwam. He entreated them to have compassion upon 
his feelings—to spare him the agony of witnessing the torture of an 
old friend, by the hands of his adopted brothers—and not to refuse 
so trifling a favor as the life of a white man, to the earnest interces¬ 
sion of one who had proved by three years faithful service, that he 
was sincerely and zealously devoted to the cause of the Indians. 

The speech was listened to, in unbroken silence. As soon as he 
had finished, several chiefs, expressed their approbation by a deep 
guttural injterjection, while others were equally as forward 
in making known their objections to the proposal. They urged 
that his fate had already been determined in a large and solemn 
council, and that they would be acting like squaws to change 
their minds every hour. They insisted upon the flagrant misde¬ 
meanors of Kenton; that he had not only stolen their horses, but 
had flashed his gun at one of their young men—that it was in vain 
to suppose that so bad a man could ever become an Indian at heart, 
like their brother Girty—that the Kentuckians were all alike—very 
bad people—and ought to be killed as fast as they were taken—and, 
finally, they observed that many of their people had come from a 
distance, solely to assist at the torture of the prisoner—and patheti- 


332 


KENTON. 


cally painted the disappointment and chagrin with which they would 
hear that all their trouble had been for nothing. 

Girty listened with obvious impatience to the young warriors, 
who had so ably argued against a reprieve—and starting to his feet, 
as soon as the others had concluded, he urged his former request 
with great earnestness. He briefly, but strongly recapitulated his 
own services, and the many and weighty instances of attachment 
which he had given. He asked if he could be suspected of partiality 
to the whites? When had he ever before interceded for any of that 
hated race ? Had he not brought seven scalps home with him from 
the last expedition ? and had he not submitted seven white prisoners 
that very •evening to their discretion ? Had he expressed a wish 
that a single one of the captives should be saved ? This was his 
first and should be his last request: for if they refused to him, what 
was never refused to the intercession of one of their natural chiefs, 
he would look upon himself as disgraced in their eyes, and con¬ 
sidered as unworthy of confidence. Which of their own natural 
warriors had been more zealous than himself? From what expe¬ 
dition had he ever shrunk ? what white man had ever seen his back ? 
Whose tomahawk had been bloodier than his ? He would say no 
more. He asked it as a first and last favor; as an evidence that 
they approved of his zeal and fidelity, that the life of his bosom 
friend might be spared. Fresh speakers arose upon each side, and 
the debate was carried on for an hour and a half with great heat and 
energy. 

During the whole of this time, Kenton’s feelings may readily be 
imagined. He could not understand a syllable of what was said. 
He saw that Girty spoke with deep earnestness, and that the eyes 
of the assembly were often turned upon himself with various expres¬ 
sions. He felt satisfied that his friend was pleading for his life, and 
that he was violently opposed by a large part of the council. At 
length, the war club was produced and the final vote taken. Kenton 
watched its progress with thrilling emotion—which yielded to the 
most rapturous delight, as he perceived, that those who struck the 
floor of the council house, were decidedly inferior in number to those 
who passed it in silence. Having thus succeeded in his benevolent 
purpose, Girty lost no time in attending to the comfort of his friend. 
He led him into his own wigwam, and from his own store gave him 
a pair of moccasins and leggings, a breech-cloth, a hat, a coat, a 
handkerchief for his neck, and another for his head. 

The whole of this remarkable scene is in the highest degree 
honorable to Girty, and is in striking contrast to most of his conduct 
after his union with the Indians. No man can be completely 
hardened, and no character is at all times the same. Girty had been 
deeply offended with the whites ; and knowing that his desertion to 
the Indians had been universally and severely reprobated, and that 
he himself was regarded with detestation by his former countrymen 
—he seems to have raged against them from these causes, with a 
fury which resembled rather the paroxism of a maniac, than the 


KENTON. 


333 


deliberate cruelty of a naturally ferocious temper. Fierce censure 
never reclaims—but rather drives to still greater extremities; and 
this is the reason that renegadoes are so much fiercer than natural 
foes—and that when females fall, they fall irretrievably. 

For the space of three weeks, Kenton lived in perfect tranquility. 
Girty’s kindness was uniform and indefatigable. He introduced 
Kenton to his own family, and accompanied him to the wigwams of 
the principal chiefs, who seemed all at once to have turned from the 
extremity of rage to the utmost kindness and cordiality. Fortune, 
however, seemed to have selected him for her football, and to have 
snatched him from the frying pan only to throw him into the fire. 
About twenty days after his most providential deliverance from the 
stake, he was walking in company with Girty and an Indian named 
Redpole, when another Indian came from the village towards them, 
uttering repeatedly a whoop of peculiar intonation. Girty instantly 
told Kenton that it was the distress halloo, and that they must all go 
instantly to the council house. Kenton’s heart involuntarily fluttered 
at the intelligence, for he dreaded all whoops, and hated all council 
houses—firmly believing that neither boded him any good. Nothing, 
however, could be done, to avoid whatever fate awaited, and he 
sadly accompanied Girty and Redpole back to the village. 

Upon approaching the Indian who had hallooed, Girty and Red¬ 
pole shook, hands with him. Kenton likewise offered his hand, but 
the Indian refused to take it—at the same time scowling upon him 
ominously. This took place within a few paces of the door of the 
council house. Upon entering, they saw that the house was un¬ 
usually full. Many chiefs and warriors from the distant towns 
were present; and their countenances were grave, severe and forbid¬ 
ding. Girty, Redpole and Kenton, walked around, offering their 
hands successively to each warrior. The hands of the two first 
were cordially received—but when poor Kenton anxiously offered 
his hand to the first warrior, it was rejected with the same scowling 
eye as before. He passed on to the second, but was still rejected— 
he persevered, however, until his hand had been refused by the first 
6ix—when sinking into despondence, he turned off* and stood apart 
from the rest. 

The debate quickly commenced. Kenton looked eagerly towards 
Girty, as his last and only hope. 13is friend looked anxious and 
distressed. The chiefs from a distance arose one after another, and 
spoke in a firm and indignant tone, often looking at Kenton with an 
eye of death. Girty did not desert him—but his eloquence appeared 
wasted upon the distant chiefs. After a warm debate, he turned to 
Kenton and said, “ well ! my friend! you must die ! ”—One of the 
stranger chiefs instantly seized him by the collar, and the others 
surrounding him, he was strongly pinioned, committed to a guard, 
and instantly marched off’. His guard were on horseback, while the 
prisoner was driven before them on foot, with a long rope around 
his neck, the other end of which was held by one of the guard. In 
this manner they had marched about two and a half miles, when 


334 


KENTON, 


Girty passed them on horseback, informing Kenton that he had 
friends at the next village, with whose aid he hoped to be able to do 
something for him. Girty passed on to the town, but finding that 
nothing could be done, he would not see his friend again, but returned 
to Waughcotomoco by a different route. 

They passed through the village without halting, and at the 
distance of two and a half miles beyond it, Kenton had again an 
opportunity of witnessing the fierce hate with which these children 
of nature regard an enemy. At the distance of a few paces from the 
road, a squaw was busily engaged in chopping wood, while her lord 
and master was sitting on a log, smoking his pipe and directing her 
labors, with the indolent indifference common to the natives, when 
not under the influence of some exciting passion. The sight of 
Kenton, however, seemed to rouse him to fury. He hastily sprung 
up, with a sudden yell—snatched the axe from the squaw, and rush¬ 
ing upon the prisoner so rapidly as to give him no opportunity of 
escape, dealt him a blow with the axe which cut through his shoulder, 
breaking the bone and almost severing the arm from his body. He 
would instantly have repeated the blow, had not Kenton’s conduc¬ 
tors interfered and protected him, severely reprimanding the Indian 
for attempting to rob them of the amusement of torturing the prisoner 
at-. 

They soon reached a large village upon the head waters of Scioto, 
where Kenton, for the first time, beheld the celebrated Mingo Chief, 
Logan, so honorably mentioned in Mr. Jefferson’s Notes on Virginia. 
Logan walked gravely up to the place where Kenton stood, and the 
following short conversation ensued : “ Well, young man, these 
young men seem very mad at you?” “ Yes, sir, they certainly 
are.” “ Well! don’t be disheartened ; I am a great chief; you are to 
go to Sandusky—they speak of burning you there—but I will* send 
two runners to-morrow to speak good for you.” Logan’s form was 
striking and manly—his countenance calm and noble, and he spoke 
the English language with fluency and correctness. Kenton’s 
spirits instantly rose at the address of the benevolent chief, and he 
once more looked upon himself as providentially rescued from the 
stake. 

On the following morning, two runners were dispatched to Sandusky, 
as the chief had promised, and until their return, Kenton was kindly 
treated being permitted to spend much of his time with Logan, who 
conversed with him freely, and in the most friendly manner. In 
the evening, the two runners returned, and were closeted with Logan. 
Kenton felt the most burning anxiety to know what was the result of 
their mission, but Logan did not visit him again until the next morn¬ 
ing. He then walked up to him, accompanied by Kenton’s guards, 
and giving him a piece of bread, told him that he was instantly to 
be carried to Sandusky; and without uttering another word, turned 
upon his heel and left him. 

Again, Kenton’s spirits sunk. From Logan’s manner, he sup¬ 
posed that his intercession had been unavailing—and that Sandusky 



KENTON. 


333 


was destined to be the scene of his final suffering. This appears to 
have been the truth. But fortune, who, to use Lord Lovat’s expres¬ 
sion, had been playing at cat and mouse with him for the last month, 
had selected Sandusky for the display of her strange and capricious 
power. He was driven into the town, as usual, and was to have 
been burnt on the following morning, when an Indian Agent, named 
Drewyer, interposed, and once more rescued him from the stake. 
He was anxious to obtain intelligence, for the British commandant 
at Detroit—and so earnestly insisted upon Kenton’s being delivered 
up to him, that the Indians at length consented upon the express 
condition that after the required information had been obtained, he 
should again be placed at their discretion. To this Drewyer con¬ 
sented, and without further difficulty, Kenton was transfered to his 
hands. Drewyer lost no time in removing him to Detroit. 

On the road, he informed Kenton of the condition upon which he 
had obtained possession of his person, assuring him, however, that 
no consideration should induce him to abandon a prisoner to the 
mercy of such wretches. Having dwelt at some length upon the 
generosity of his own disposition—and having sufficiently magnified 
the service which he had just rendered him, he began, at length, to 
cross question Kenton as to the force and condition of Kentucky, and 
particularly as to the number of men at fort McIntosh. Kenton 
very candidly declared his inability to answer either question, ob¬ 
serving, that he was merely a private, and by no means acquainted 
with matters of an enlarged and general import; that his great busi¬ 
ness had heretofore been, to endeavor to take care of himself—which 
he had found a work of no small difficulty. Drewyer replied, that 
he believed him, and from that time Kenton was troubled with no 
more questions. 

His condition at Detroit was not unpleasant. He was compelled 
to report himself every morning, to an English officer, and was 
restricted to certain boundaries through th3 day; but in other 
respects, he scarcely felt that he was a prisoner. His battered 
body and broken arm were quickly repaired, and his emaciated 
limbs were again clothed with a proper proportion of flesh. He 
remained in this state of easy restraint from October, 1777, until 
June, 1778, when he meditated an escape. There was no difficulty 
in leaving Detroit—but he would be compelled to traverse a wilder¬ 
ness of more than two hundred miles, abounding with hostile 
Indians, and affording no means of subsistance, beyond the wild 
game, which could not be killed without a gun. In addition to 
this, he would certainly be pursued, and if retaken by the Indians, 
he might expect a repetition of all that he had undergone before— 
without the prospect of a second interposition on the part of the 
English. These considerations deterred him, for some time, from 
the attempt, but at length his impatience became uncontrollable, 
and he determined to escape or perish in the attempt. He took 
his measures with equal secrecy and foresight. He cautiously 
29 


336 


KENTON. 


sounded two young Kentuckians, then at Detroit, who had been 
taken with Boone at the Blue Licks, and had been purchased by 
the British. He found them as impatient as himself of captivity, 
and resolute to accompany him. Charging them not to breathe a 
syllable of their design to any other prisoners, he busied himself 
for several days in making the necessary preparations. It was 
absolutely necessary that they should be provided with arms, both 
for the sake of repelling attacks and for procuring the means of 
subsistence; and, at the same time, it was very difficult to obtain 
them, without the knowledge of the British commandant. By 
patiently waiting their opportunity, however, all these preliminary 
difficulties were overcome. Kenton formed a close friendship with 
two Indian hunters, deluged them with rum, and bought their guns 
for a mere trifle. After carefully hiding them in the woods, he 
returned to Detroit, and managed to procure another rifle, together 
with powder and balls, from a Mr. and Mrs. Edger, citizens of the 
town. They then -appointed a night for the attempt, and agreed 
upon a place of rendezvous. All things turned out prosperously.— 
They met at the time and place appointed, without discovery, and 
taking a circuitous route, avoided pursuit, and travelling only during 
the night, they at length arrived safely at Louisville, after a march 
of thirty days. 

Thus terminated one of the most remarkable adventures in the 
whole range of western history. A fatalist would recognize the 
hand of destiny in every stage of its progress. In the infatuation 
with which Kenton refused to adopt proper measures for his safety, 
while such were practicable—in the persevering obstinacy with 
which he remained upon the Ohio shore, until flight became use¬ 
less ; and afterwards, in that remarkable succession of accidents, by 
which, without the least exertion on his part, he was alternately 
tantalized with a prospect of safety, then plunged again into the 
deepest despair. He was eight times exposed to the gauntlet— 
three times tied to the stake—and as often thought himself on the 
eve of a terrible death. All the sentences passed upon him, whe¬ 
ther of mercy or condemnation, seemed to have been only pro¬ 
nounced in one council, in order to be reversed in another. Every 
friend that Providence raised up in his favor, was immediately 
followed by some enemy, who unexpectedly interposed, and turned 
his short glimpse of sunshine into deeper darkness than ever. For 
three weeks, he was see-sawing between life and death, and during 
the whole time, he was perfectly passive. No wisdom, or foresight, 
or exertion, could have saved him. Fortune fought his battle from 
first to last, and seemed determined to permit nothing else to inter¬ 
fere. Scarcely had he reached Kentucky, when he was embarked 
in a new enterprize. 

Col. George Rogers Clarke had projected an expedition against 
the hostile posts of Vincennes and Kaskaskia, and invited all Ken¬ 
tuckians, who had leisure and inclination, to join him. Kenton 


KENTON. 


337 


instantly repaired to his standard, and shared in the hardship and 
glory of one of the boldest, most arduous, and successful expedi¬ 
tions which has ever graced the American arms. The results of 
the campaign are well known. Secrecy and celerity were emi¬ 
nently combined in it, and Clarke shared with the common soldier, 
in encountering every fatigue and braving every danger. Ken¬ 
ton, as usual, acted as a spy, and was eminently serviceable, but 
no incident occurred, of sufficient importance to obtain a place in 
these sketches. 

From that time, until the close of the Indian war in the west, 
Kenton was actively employed, generally in a frontier station, and 
occasionally in serious expeditions. He accompanied Edwards in 
his abortive expedition against the Indian towns in 1785, and shared 
in Wayne’s decisive campaign of’94. 


I 


SKETCH 

OF THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 


Gen. BEIVJA LOGAN. 


Among the earliest and most respectable of the emigrants to Ken¬ 
tucky, was Cenerel Benjamin Logan. His father was an Irishman, 
who had left his own country early in the 18th century, and settled 
in Pennsylvania, from which he subsequently removed to Augusta 
county, Virginia. Here he shortly afterwards died. Young Logan, 
as the eldest son, was entitled by the laws of Virginia, to the whole 
of the landed property, (his father having died intestate.) He 
refused, however, to avail himself of this circumstance, and as the 
farm upon which the family resided was too small to admit of a 
division, he caused it to be sold, and the money to be distributed 
among his brothers and sisters, reserving a portion for his mother. 
At the age of twenty one, he removed from Augusta county to the 
banks of the Holston, where, shortly afterwards, he purchased a farm 
and married. In 1774, he accompanied Dunmore in his expedition, 
probably as a private. In ’75, he removed to Kentucky, and soon 
became particularly distinguished. His person was striking and 
manly, his hair and complexion very dark, his eye keen and pene¬ 
trating, his countenance grave, thoughtful, and expressive of a firm¬ 
ness, probity and intelligence, which were eminently displayed 
throughout his life. His education was very imperfect, and con¬ 
fined, we believe, simply, to the arts of reading and writing. Having 
remained in Kentucky, in a very exposed situation, until the spring 
of ’76, he returned for his family, and brought them out to a small 
settlement, called Logan’s Fort, not far from Iiarrodsburgh. The 
Indians during this summer were so numerous and daring in their 
excursions, that Logan was compelled to remove his wife and family, 
for safety, to Iiarrodsburgh, while he himself remained at his cabins 
and cultivated a crop of corn. 

In the spring of ’77, his wife returned to Logan’s Fort; and 
several settlers having joined him, he determined to maintain him¬ 
self there at all risk. His courage was soon put to the test. On the 
morning of the 20th May, a few days after his wife had rejoined 
him, the women were milking the cows at the gate of the little fort, 
and some of the garrison attending them, when a party of Indians 
appeared and fired upon them. One man was shot dead and two 
29* 


340 


LOGAN. 


more wounded, one of them mortally. The whole party, including 
one of the wounded men, instantly ran into the fort and closed the 
gate. The enemy quickly showed themselves on the edge of the 
canebrake, within close rifle shot of the gate, and seemed numerous 
and determined. Having a moment’s leisure to look around, they 
beheld a spectacle, which awakened the most lively interest and com¬ 
passion. A. man named Harrison, had been severely wounded, and 
still lay near the spot where he had fallen, within full view both of 
the garrison- and the enemy. The poor fellow was, at intervals, 
endeavoring to crawl in the direction of the fort, and had succeeded 
in reaching a cluster of bushes, which, however, were too thin to 
shelter his person from the enemy. His wife and family were in 
the fort and in deep distress at his situation. The enemy undoubt¬ 
edly forbore to fire upon him, from the supposition that some of the 
garrison would attempt to save him, in which case, they held them¬ 
selves in readiness to fire upon them from the canebrake. The case 
was a very trying one. It seemed impossible to save him without 
sacrificing the lives of several of the garrison, and their numbers 
already were far too few for an effectual defence, having originally 
amounted only to fifteen men, three of whom had already been put 
hors de combat. Yet the spectacle was so moving, and the lamen¬ 
tations of his family so distressing, that it seemed equally impossi¬ 
ble not to make an effort to relieve him. Logan endeavored to per¬ 
suade some of his men to accompany him in a sally, but so evident 
and apalling was the danger, that all at first refused, one Herculean 
fellow observing that he was a “ weakly man,” and another declar¬ 
ing that he was sorry for Harrison, “but that the skin was closer 
than the shirt.” At length, John Martin collected his courage, and 
declared his willingness to accompany Logan, saying that “ he could 
only die once, and that he was ns ready now as he ever would be.” 
The two men opened the gate and started upon their forlorn expedi¬ 
tion, Logan leading the way. They had not advanced five steps, 
when Harrison, perceiving them, made a vigorous effort to rise, upon 
which Martin, supposing him able to help himself, immediately 
sprun'f back within the gate. Harrison’s strength almost instantly 
failed, and he fell at full length upon the grass. Logan paused a 
moment after the desertion of Martin, then suddenly sprung forward 
to the spot where Harrison lay, rushing through the tremendous 
shower of rifle balls, which was poured upon him from every spot 
around the fort, capable of covering an Indian. Seizing the wound¬ 
ed man in his arms, he ran with him to the fort, through the same 
heavy fire, and entered it unhurt, although the gate and picketing 
near him were riddled with balls, and his hat and clothes pierced in 
several places. 

The fort was now vigorously assailed in the Indian manner, and 
as vigorously defended by the garrison. The women were all em¬ 
ployed in moulding bullets, while the men were constantly at their 
posts. The weakness of the garrison was not their only grievance. 
A distressing scarcity of ammunition prevailed, and no supply could 


LOQAN. 


341 

be procured nearer than Holston. But how was it to be obtained? 
The fort was closely blockaded—the Indians were swarming in the 
woods, and chances were sadly against the probability of the sale 
passage of any courier through so many dangers! Under these 
circumstances, Logan determined to take the dangerous office upon 
himself. After encouraging the men as well as he could, with the pros¬ 
pect of a safe and speedy return, he took advantage of a dark night, 
and crawled through the Indian encampment without discovery. 
Shunning the ordinary route through Cumberland Gap, he arrived 
at Hols ton by by-paths which no white man had yet trodden— 
through canebrakes and thickets ; over tremendous cliffs and preci¬ 
pices, where the deer could scarcely obtain footing and where no 
vestige of any of the human family could be seen.—Having obtained 
a supply of powder and lead, he relumed through the same almost 
inaccessible paths to the fort, which he found still besieged and now 
reduced to extremity. The safe return of their leader inspired them 
with fresh courage, and in a few days, the appearance of Col. Bow¬ 
man’s parly compelled the Indians to retire. 

During the whole of this and the next year, the Indians were 
exceedingly troublesome. The Shawnees particularly, distinguished 
themselves by the frequency and inveterate nature of their incur¬ 
sions ; and as their capitol, Chillicothe, was within striking distance, 
an expedition was set on foot against it in 1779, in which Logan 
served as second in command. Capt. James Harrod and John 
Bulger, accompanied the expedition—the former of whom, shortly 
afterwards, perished in a lonely ramble—and the latter was killed 
at the Blue Licks. Col. Bowman commanded in chief. The de¬ 
tachment, amounting to one hundred and sixty men, consisted entirely 
of volunteers, accustomed to Indian warfare, and was well officered, 
with the exception of its commander. They left Harrodsburgh in 
July r , and look their preliminary measures so well, that they arrived 
within a mile of Chillichothe, without giving the slightest alarm to 
the enemy. Here the detachment halted at an early hour in the 
night, and as usual, sent out spies to examine the condition of the 
village. Before midnight they returned, and reported that the enemy 
remained unapprised of their being in the neighborhood, and were 
in the most unmilitary security. The army was instantly put in 
motion. It was determined that Logan, with one half of the men, 
should turn to the left and march hall way around the town, while 
Bowman, at the head of the remainder, should make a correspond¬ 
ing march to the right; that both parties should proceed in silence, 
until they had met at the opposite extremity of the village, when, 
having thus completely encircled it, the attack was to commence. 
Logan, who was bravery itself, performed his part of the combined 
operation, with perfect order, and in profound silence; and having^ 
reached the designated spot, awaited with impatience the arrival ot 
his commander. Hour after hour stole away, but Bowman did not 
appear. At length daylight appeared. Logan, still expecting the 
arrival of his Colonel, ordered the men to conceal themselves in the 


342 


LOGAN. 


high grass, and await the expected signal to attack. No orders, 
however, arrived. In the mean time, the men, in shifting about 
through the grass, alarmed an Indian dog, the only sentinel on duty. 
He instantly began to bay loudly, and advanced in the direction of 
the man who had attracted his attention. Presently a solitary In¬ 
dian left his cabin, and walked cautiously towards the party, halting 
frequently, rising upon tip-toes, and gazing around him. Logan’s 
party lay close, with the hope of taking him, without giving the 
alarm ; but at that instant a gun was fired in an opposite quarter of 
the town, as was alterwards ascertained by one of Bowman’s party, 
and the Indian, giving one shrill whoop, ran swiftly back to the 
council house. Concealment was now impossible. Logan’s party 
instantly sprung up from the grass, and rushed upon the village, not 
doubting for a moment that they would be gallantly supported. As 
they advanced, they perceived Indians of all ages and of both sexes 
running to the great cabin, near the centre of the town, where they 
collected in full force and appeared determined upon an obstinate 
defence. Logan instantly took possession of the houses which had 
been deserted, and rapidly advancing from cabin to cabin, at length 
established his detachment within close rifle shot of the Indian 
redoubt. lie now listened impatiently for the firing which should 
have been heard from the opposite extremity of the town, where he 
supposed Bowman’s party to be, but to his astonishment, every 
thing remained quiet in that quarter. In the mean time his own 
position had become critical. The Indians had recovered from their 
panic, and kept up a close and heavy fire upon the cabins which 
covered his men. He had pushed his detachment so close to the 
redoubt, that’they could neither advance nor retreat without great 
exposure. The enemy out numbered him, and gave indications of a 
disposition to turn both flanks of his position, and thus endanger his 
retreat. Under these circumstances, ignorant of the condition of his 
commander, and cut off from communication with him, he formed 
the bold and judicious resolution, to make a moveable breast work of 
the planks which formed the floor of the cabins, and under cover of 
it to rush upon the strong hold of the enemy and carry it by main 
force. Had this gallant determination been carried into effect, and 
had the movement been promptly seconded, as it ought to have been 
by Bowman, the conflict would have been bloody, and the victory 
decisive. Most probably not an Indian would have escaped, and 
the consternation which such signal vengeance wrnuld have spread 
throughout the Indian tribes, might have repressed their incursions 
for a considerable time. But before the necessary steps could be 
taken, a messenger arrived from Bowman, with orders “to retreat!” 

Astonished at such an order, at a time when honor and safety 
required an offensive movement on their part, Logan hastily asked 
if Bowman had been overpowered by the enemy? No! Had he 
even beheld an enemy ? No ! What then, was the cause of this 
extraordinary abandonment of a design so prosperously begun ! He 
did not know 7 —the Colonel had ordered a retreat \ Logan, however 


LOGAN. 


343 


reluctantly, was compelled to obey. A retreat is always a dispiri¬ 
ting movement, and with militia, is almost certaiu to terminate in a 
complete route. As soon as the men were informed of the order, a 
most irregular and tumultuous scene commenced. Not being buoyed 
up by the mutual confidence which is the offspring of discipline, 
and which sustains regular soldiers under all circumstances, they no 
longer acted in concert. Each man selected the time, manner and 
route of his retreat for himself. Here a solitary Kentuckian would 
start up from behind a stump, and scud away through the grass, 
dodging and turning to avoid the balls which whistled around him. 
There a dozen men would run from a cabin, and scatter in every 
direction, each anxious to save himself, and none having leisure to 
attend to their neighbors. The Indians, astonished at seeing men 
route themselves in this manner, sallied out of their redoubts and 
pursued the stragglers as sportsmen would cut up a scattered flock 
of wild geese. They soon united themselves to Bowman’s party, 
who, from some unaccountable panic of their commander or fault in 
themselves, had stood stock still near the spot where Logan had left 
them the night before. All was confusion. Some cursed their 
Colonel; some reproached other officers—one shouted one thing ; 
one bellowed another; but all seemed to agree that they ought to 
make the best of their way home, without the loss of a moment’s 
time. By great exertions on the part of Logan, well seconded by 
Harrod, Bulger and the present Major Bedinger, of the Blue Licks, 
some degree of order was restored, and a tolerably respectable retreat 
commenced. The Indians, however, soon surrounded them on all 
sides, and kept up a hot fire which began to grow fatal. Colonel 
Bowman appeared totally demented, and sat upon his horse like a 
pillar of stone, neither giving an order, nor taking any measures to 
repel the enemy. The sound of the rifle shots, however, had com¬ 
pletely restored the men to their senses, and they readily formed in 
a large hollow square, took trees and returned the fire with equal 
vivacity. The enemy was quickly repelled, and the troops re-com- 
menced their march. 

But scarcely had they advanced half a mile, when the Indians re¬ 
appeared, and again opened a fire upon the front, rear, and both 
flanks. Again, a square was formed and the enemy repelled ; but 
scarcely had the harassed troops recommenced their march, when 
the same galling fire was opened upon them from every tree, bush 
and stone capable of concealing an Indian. Matters now began to 
look serious. The enemy were evidently endeavoring to detain 
them, until fresli Indians could come up in sufficient force to compel 
them to lay down their arms. The men began to be unsteady, and 
the panic was rapidly spreading Irom the Colonel to the privates. 
At this crisis, Logan, Harrod, Bedinger, &c., selected the boldest, 
and best mounted men, and dashing into the bushes on horseback, 
scoured the woods in every direction, forcing the Indians from their 
coverts, and cutting down as many as they could overtake. This 
decisive step completely dispersed the enemy—and the weary and 


344 


LOGAN. 


dispirited troops continued their retreat unmolested. They lost 
nine killed and a few others wounded. But the loss of reputation 
on the part of the Colonel, was incalculable, for, as usual, he was 
the scapegoat upon whose head the disgrace of the miscarrage was 
laid. No good reason has ever been assigned for the extraordinary 
failure of his own detachment, and the subsequent panic which he 
displayed when harassed in the wood, afforded room for suspicion, 
that either the darkness of the night, or the cry of an owl (for he did 
not see the face of an enemy,) had robbed the Colonel of his usual 
courage. 

It may here be remarked, that the propriety of combined opera¬ 
tions with irregular troops, is at least doubtful. Different corps, 
moving by different routes upon the same point, are liable to mis¬ 
carriage from so many causes, that the measure is scarcely ever 
attended with success, unless when the troops are good, the officers 
intelligent and unanimous, and the ground perfectly understood. 
The intervention of a creek, the ignorance of a guide, or the panic 
of an officer, as in the case of Bowman, may destroy the vnity of 
the operation, and expose the detachment which has reached its 
station in proper time to be cut off. The signal failure of Washing¬ 
ton at Germantown, may, in a great measure, be attributed to the 
complicated plan of attack, as the several divisions arrived at dif¬ 
ferent times, attacked without concert, and were beaten in detail. I 
can scarcely recollect a single instance, save the affair ol Trenton, 
in which raw troops have succeeded by combined operations, and 
many miscarriages in our own annals, may be attributed to that 
circumstance. Logan returned to Kentucky with a reputation in¬ 
creased, rather than diminished, by the failure of the expedition. 
His conduct was placed in glaring contrast to that of his unfornate 
commander, and the praise of the one was in exact correspondence 
to the censure of the other. 

No other affair of consequence occurred, until the rash and dis¬ 
astrous battle of the Blue Licks, in which ,as we have seen, Logan 
was unable to share. He seems to have remained quietly engaged 
in agricultural pursuits, until the summer of ’88, when he conducted 
and expedition against the north western tribes, which as usual, 
terminated in burning their villages, and cutting up their cornfields, 
serving to irritate but not to subdue the enemy. A single inci¬ 
dent attending this expedition, deserves to be commemorated.— 
Upon approaching a large village of the Shawnees, from which, as 
usual, most of the inhabitants had fled, an old chief named Moluntha, 
came out to meet them, fantastically dressed in an old cocked hat, 
set jauntily upon one side of his head, and a fine shawl thrown over 
his shoulders. He carried an enormous pipe in one hand, and a 
tobacco pouch in the other, and strulted out with the air of an old 
French beaux to smoke the pipe of peace with his enemies, whom he 
found himself unable to meet in the field. Nothing could be more 
striking than the fearless confidence with which he walked through 
the foremost ranks of the Kentuckians, evidently highly pleased with 


LOGAN. 


345 


his own appearance, and enjoying the admiration which he doubted 
not, that his cocked hat and splendid shawl inspired. Many of the 
Kentuckians were highly amused at the mixture of dandyism and 
gallantry which the poor old man exhibited, and shook hands with 
him very cordially. Unfortunately, however, he at length approach¬ 
ed Major McGary, whose temper, never particularly sweet, was as 
much inflamed by the sight of an Indian, as that of a wild bull by 
the waving of a red flag. It happened, unfortunately too, that 
Moluntha had been one of the chiefs who commanded at the Blue 
Licks, a disaster which McGary had not yet forgotten. Instead of 
giving his hand as the others had done, McGary scowled upon the 
old man, and asked him if “ he recollected the Blue Licks! ” 
Moluntha smiled and merely repeated the word “ Blue Licks ! ”— 
When McGary instantly drew his tomahawk and cleft him to the 
brain. The old man received the blow without flinching for a 
second, and fell dead at the feet of his destroyer. Great excite¬ 
ment instantly prevailed in the army. Some called it a ruthless 
murder—and others swore that he had done right—that an Indian 
was not to be regarded as a human being—but ought to be shot 
down as a wolf whenever and wherever he appeared. McGary 
himself raved like a madman at the reproach of his countrymen, and 
declared, with many bitter oaths, that he would not only kill every 
Indian whom he met, whether in peace or war, at church or market, 
but that he would equally as readily tomahawk the man who blamed 
him for the act. 

Nothing else, worthy of being mentioned, occurred during the 
expedition, and Logan, upon his return, devoted himself exclusively 
to the civil affairs of the country, which about this time began to 
assume an important aspect. 











ADVENTURES 

0 F 

THE WHETZELS. * 


I am about detailing detached narratives of a family by the name 
of Whetzel, who were among the first white men that settled about 
Wheeling, in Virginia. This was then the outside verge of our 
western frontier; where written laws were unknown, and conse¬ 
quently men were governed by their passions and inclinations. 
Mr. Macpherson, in his remarks on the poems of Ossian, says, 
“ The nobler passions of the mind never shoot forth more free and 
unrestrained, than in the times we call barbarous. That irregular 
manner of life, and those manly pursuits, from which barbarity takes 
its name, are highly favorable to strength of mind unknown in 
polished times. In advanced society the characters of men are more 
uniform and disguised. The human passions lie in some degree 
confined behind forms and artificial manners ; and the powers of the 
soul, without an opportunity of exerting them, lose their vigor.” 

From our first acquaintance with the history ot man to the pres¬ 
ent time, the art of war has been held in more veneration than any 
other profession. Were the accounts of destroying life, by murders, 
by persecutions, by private and public wars, blotted from our books, 
our libraries could be stowed away in small book-cases. The his¬ 
tory of man appears to be a history of revolution, blood and carnage. 
Were it not for wars, how many names, which now shine with 
peculiar lustre, would have been lost in oblivion? War has ren¬ 
dered conspicuous the names of Joshua, David, Cyrus, Alexander, 
Romulus, Marius, Caesar, Scipio, Hannibal, Constantine, Cromwell, 
Washington, and last, though not least, Napoleon; with a host of 
others, all of whose names are rendered illustrious, by marching 
boldly to the temple of fame through rivers of blood. 

It is a natural impulse of the human mind, to be informed of the 
condition and doings of man in every age, circumstance and situation 
in which he appears to have been placed by Providence. In no 
situation can he appear more interesting, than in the first settling of 

* Written for the Western Christian Advocate, by John M‘Donald, of Ohio. 

30 



348 


THE WHETZELS. 


empires. Those philanthropists who have, by their studies and 
labor, either in the retirement of the closet, the workshop, or in the 
cultivation of the earth, richly merited the gratitude of mankind, 
have been generally passed by as plodding grovellers, unworthy 
of distinction. If men are careless in commemorating the names of 
philosophers, chemists, and mechanics, who have brought to such 
perfection the arts and sciences, by which the condition of man in 
all the walks of public and private life have been so much improved ; 
the warrior at least has no cause of complaint, as mankind appears 
anxious, as if by common consent, to place in the front page of his¬ 
tory the fiery, impetuous soldier. Then, as the whole world cannot 
be supposed to be in error, and to the military profession has been 
awarded the most dignified station, we will even let it be so ; as a 
disregard to custom, and a long settled public opinion, always be¬ 
trays a stubborn, or a weak, or an ill-regulated mind. While the 
historians who have gone before, have recorded the achievements of 
those generals who have commanded the strength of empires in the 
battle field, I will endeavor to give a true narrative of the brilliant 
exploits of some of the old pioneers, who fought frequently single- 
handed, without pay or the prospect of emolument, but merely for 
the sake of lighting. 

As the aboriginals of our country held peaceable possession of it 
from time immemorial, it would almost appear unjust to dispossess 
them. But the practice of the world, from the earliest times, appears 
to have established the principle, that the most powerful have a right 
to govern ; the right of conquest, then, appears to be a legitimate 
right, sanctioned by the laws of God and man. 

Our border war was of a distressing, destructive character—it was 
a war of extermination. When our frontier men went on scouts or 
campaigns, their services were wholly voluntary, and their supplies 
were furnished by themselves. “ Campaigns begun and ended, 
without even a newspaper notice ; as a printing press was then un¬ 
known in the country.” 

“ Let the imagination of the reader pursue the track of the adven¬ 
turer into the solitary wilderness, bending his course towards the 
setting sun ; over undulating hills, under the shade of large forest trees, 
and wading through rank weeds and grass which covered the earth;— 
now viewing from the top of a hill the winding course of a creek, he 
ascertains the cardinal points of north and south by the thickness of 
the moss and bark on the north side of the ancient trees ;—now de¬ 
scending into a valley, and perceiving his approach to a river, by 
seeing the large ash, sycamore, and sugar tree, beatifully festooned 
with grape vines. Watchful as Argus his restless eyes catch every 
thing around him. In an unknown region, and surrounded with 
dangers^ he is the sentinel of his own safety, and relies on himself 
alone for. protection. The toilsome march of the day being ended, 
at the fall of night he seeks for safety some narrow, sequestered 
hollow ; and by the side of a log builds a fire, and after eating his 
coarse and scanty meal, wraps himself up in his blanket, and lays 


THE WHETZELS. 


349 


him down on his bed of leaves, with his feet to the fire, for 
repose.” 

Of the Whetzels there were four brothers. Their names were 
Martin, Lewis, Jacob and John. Their father was a German, and 
was one of the first white men who settled near Wheeling, in Vir¬ 
ginia. At which station or fort he located himself I cannot now 
recollect, although I often heard the story in my youth. Old Mr. 
Whetzel, although it was in the hottest time in the Indian war, was so 
rash as to build a cabin some distance from the fort, and move his 
family into it. How long he lived there before his fatal tragedy 
occurred, is not remembered. One day, in the midst of summer, 
(Martin, his eldest son, being out hunting, and John having been 
sent on some errand to the fort,) a numerous party of Indians sur¬ 
rounded the house, rushed in, and killed, tomahawked and scalped 
old Mr. Whetzel, his wife, and all his small children. Lewis and 
Jacob, being smart,, active boys, were spared, and made prisoners. 
When the pirates gave Csesar his liberty for a small ransom, they 
little knew th6 value of their prisoner. Could the Indians have had 
a prescience of the sad havock those two youths would have made 
on their race, instead of carrying them off prisoners, they would 
have carried their scalps to their towns. It is happy for us, that 
God has veiled from us the future. 

The following account of the escape of the Whetzels from cap¬ 
tivity, is taken from “Doddridge’s Notes:” “ When about thirteen 
years of age, Lewis was taken prisoner by the Indians, together 
with his brother Jacob, about eleven years old. Before he was taken 
he received a slight wound in the breast, from a bullet, which car¬ 
ried off a small piece of the breast-bone. The second night after 
they were taken, the Indians encamped at the Big Lick, twenty 
miles from the river, on the waters of McMahon’s Creek. The 
boys were not confined. After the Indians had fallen asleep, Lewis 
whispered to his brother Jacob that he must get up and go back 
home with him. When they had got about one hundred yards from 
the camp, they sat down on a log. * Well,’ said Lewis, ‘ we can’t 
go home barefooted; I will go back and get a pair of moccasons for 
each of us ;’ and accordingly did so, and returned. After sitting a 
little longer, ‘ Now,’ said he, ‘ I will go back and get father a gun, 
and then we will start.’ This was effected. They had not travelled 
far on the trad by which they came before they heard the Indians 
after them. It was a moonlight night. When the Indians came 
pretty nigh them, they stepped aside into the bushes, and let them 
pass ; then fell into the rear and travelled on. On the return of the 
Indians they did the same. They were then pursued by two Indians 
on horseback, whom they dodged in the same way. The next day 
they reached Wheeling in safety, crossing the river on a raft of 
their own making. By this time Lewis had become almost spent 
from his wound.” 

After their return from captivity, and these Lads began to grow' to 
be men, (and the boys on the frontier, at a very early age, at least 


350 


THE WHETZELS. 


as soon as they could handle a gun, considered themselves men,) 
they took a solemn oath that they would never make peace nor truce 
with the Indians, whilst they had strength to wield a tomahawk, or 
sight to draw a bead; and they were as true to their oaths as was 
the illustrious and far-famed hero of Carthage. “ These warriors 
esteemed the duty of revenge as the most precious and sacred portion 
of their inheritance.” The blood of their murdered and mangled 
parents, and infant brothers and sisters, was always present to their 
minds, and strung their sinews to activity, and whetted their souls to 
the highest pitch of resolution to bathe their hands in the blood of 
their enemies. 

“ The following narrative goes to show how much may be effect¬ 
ed by the skill, bravery, and physical activity of a single individual, 
in the partizan warfare carried on against the Indians, on the wes¬ 
tern frontier. Lewis Whetzel’s education, like that of his cotempo¬ 
raries, was that of the hunter and warrior. When a boy, he adopted 
the practice of loading and firing his rifle as he ran. This was a 
means of making him so destructive to the Indians afterwards.” 

“ In the year 1782, after Crawford’s defeat, Lewis Whetzel went 
with Thomas Mills, who had been in the campaign, to get a horse, 
which he had left near the place where St. Clairsville now stands. 
At the Indian Spring, two miles above St. Clairsville, on the Wheel¬ 
ing road, they were met by about forty Indians, who were in pursuit 
of the stragglers from the campaign. The Indians and the white 
men discovered each other about the same time. Lewis fired first, 
and killed an Indian; the fire from the Indians wounded Mr. Mills, 
and he was soon overtaken and killed. Four of the Indians then 
singled out, dropped their guns, and pursued Whetzel. Whetzel 
loaded his rifle as he ran. After running about half a mile, one of 
the Indians having got within eight or ten steps of him, Whetzel 
wheeled round and shot him down, ran on, and loaded as before.— 
After going about three quarters of a mile further, a second Indian 
came so close to him, that when he turned to fire, the Indian caught 
the muzzle of his gun, and as lie expressed it, he and the Indian had 
a severe wring for it; he succeeded, however, in bringing the muz¬ 
zle to the Indian’s breast, and killed him on the spot. By this time 
he, as well as the Indians, were pretty well tired; the pursuit was 
continued by the two remaining Indians. Whetzel, as before, load¬ 
ed his gun, and stopped several times during the latter chase. When 
he did so the Indians treed themselves. After going something 
more than a mile, Whetzel took the advantage of a little open piece 
of ground, over which the Indians were passing, a short distance 
behind him, to make a sudden stop for the purpose of shooting the 
foremost, who got behind a little sapling, which was too small to 
cover his body. Whetzel shot, and broke his thigh ; the wound, in 
the issue, proved fatal. The last of the Indians then gave a little 
yell, and said, ‘ No catch dat man—gun always loaded,’ and gave 
up the chase ; glad, no doubt, to get off with his life. This was a 


THE WHETZELS. 


351 


frightful and well managed fight. It is said that Lewis Whetzel, in 
the course of the Indian wars in this part of the country, (Wheeling,) 
killed twenty-seven Indians ; besides a number more, along the fron¬ 
tier settlements of Kentucky.” 


MARTIN WHETZEL. 

In the year 1780, an expedition was set on foot, to proceed 
against and destroy the Indian towns situated on the Coshocton, a 
branch of the Muskingum river. The place of rendezvous for the 
troops was Wheeling. The command of the expedition was con¬ 
ferred on Col. Broadhead, a soldier of some distinction in those 
days. Martin Whetzel \tfas a volunteer in this campaign. The 
officers of the frontier armies were only nominally such ; every 
soldier acted as seemed right in his own judgment. This little 
army, of four hundred men, went forward rapidly, in order to fall 
upon the Indian towns by surprise. They were secretly and actively 
pushed forward, till they surrounded one of their towns before the 
enemy were apprised of their danger. “ Every man, woman and 
child were made prisoners, without the firing of a gun.” 

“ Among the prisoners were sixteen warriors.” “ A little after 
dark a council of war was held, to determine on the fate of the 
warriors in custody. They were doomed to death, and by the order 
of the commander were bound, taken a little distance below the 
town, and despatched with tomahawks and spears, and then scalped.” 
In this work of death, Martin Whetzel, with a kind of fiendish 
pleasure, sunk his tomahawk into the heads of the unresisting 
Indians. 

“ Early the next morning, an Indian presented himself on the 
opposite bank of the river, and asked for the * Big Captain.’ Col. 
Broadhead presented himself, and asked the Indian what he wanted ? 
To which he replied, * I want peace.’ ‘ Send over some of your 
chiefs,’ said Broadhead. ‘ May be you kill,’ said the Indian. He 
was answered, ‘ They shall not be killed.’ One of the chiefs, a 
well-looking man, came over the river, and entered into conversa¬ 
tion with the commander in the street; but while engaged in con¬ 
versation, Martin Whetzel came up behind him with a tomahawk 
concealed in the bosom of his hunting-shirt, and struck him on the 
back of the head. The poor Indian fell, and immediately expired.” 
This act of perfidy and reckless revenge, the commander had no 
power, if he had the disposition, to punish, as probably two-thirds 
of the army approved the vindictive deed. 

“ The next day the army commenced its retreat from Coshocton. 
Col. Broadhead committed the prisoners to the militia. They were 
about twenty in number. After they marehed about half a mile, the 
men commenced killing them.” Martin Whetzel’s tomahawk upon 
this occasion was crimsoned with the blood and brains of the unre¬ 
sisting Indians. Such was his indomitable spirit of revenge for the 
murder of his parents and infant brothers and sisters, that no place 



352 


THE WHETZELS. 


nor circumstance was sacred enough to preserve the life of an Indi¬ 
an, when within his vindictive grasp. “ In a short time they were 
all despatched except a few women and children, who were spared 
and taken to Fort Pitt, and after some time exchanged for an equal 
number of their prisoners.” 

Some years after the foregoing action took place, Martin Whetzel 
was surprised and taken prisoner by the Indians, and remained with 
them a considerable length of time; till by his cheerful disposition, 
and apparent satisfaction with their mode and manner of life, he dis¬ 
armed their suspicion, acquired their confidence, and was adopted 
into one of their families. How much his duplicity overreached the 
credulity of those sons of the forest, the sequel will show. He was 
free, he hunted around the town, returned, danced, and frolicked 
with the young Indians, and appeared perfectly satisfied with his 
change of life. But all this time, although he showed a cheerful 
face, his heart was brooding on escape, which he wished to render 
memorable by some tragic act of revenge upon his confiding enemies. 
In the fall of the year, Martin and three Indians set off to make a 
fall hunt. They pitched their camp near the head of Sandusky 
river. When the hunt commenced, he was very careful to return 
first in the evening to the camp, prepare wood for the night, and do 
all the other little offices of camp duty to render them comfortable. 
By this means he lulled any lurking suspicion which they might 
entertain towards him. While hunting one evening, some distance 
from the camp, he came across one of his Indian camp mates. The 
Indian not being apprised that revenge was corroding in Whetzel’s 
heart, was not the least alarmed at the approach of his friend the 
white man. Martin watched for a favorable moment, and as the 
Indian’s attention was called in a different direction, he shot him 
down, scalped him, and threw his body into a deep hole, which had 
been made by a large tree torn up by the roots, and covered his body 
with logs and brush, over which he strewed leaves to conceal the 
body. He then hurried to camp to prepare, as usual, wood for the 
night. When night came, one of the Indians was missing, and 
Martin expressed great concern on account of the absence of their 
comrade. The other Indians did not appear to be the least con¬ 
cerned at the absence of their companion ; they alleged that he 
might have taken a large circle, looking for new hunting ground, or 
that he might have pursued some wounded game till it was too late 
to return to camp. In this mood the subject was dismissed for the 
night; they eat their supper, and lay down to sleep. Martin’s 
mind was so full of the thoughts of home, and of taking signal 
vengeance of his enemies, that he could not sleep ; he had gone 
too far to retreat, and whatever he done, must be done quickly. 
Being now determined to effect his escape at all hazards, the ques¬ 
tion he had to decide was whether he should make an attack on the 
two sleeping Indians, or watch for a favorable opportunity of des¬ 
patching them one at a time. The latter plan appeared to him to be 
less subject to risk or failure. The next morning he prepared to put 


THE VVIIETZELS. 


353 


his determination into execution. When the two Indians set out on 
their hunt the next morning, he determined to follow one of them 
(like a true hunting dog on a slow trail,) till a fair opportunity 
should present itself of despatching him without alarming his fellow’. 
He cautiously pursued him till near evening, when he openly walked 
to him, and commenced a conversation about their day’s hunt. The 
Indian being completely off his guard, suspecting no danger, Martin 
watched for a favorable moment when the Indian’s attention was 
drawn to a different direction, and with one sweep of his vengeful 
tomahawk laid him lifeless on the ground, scalped him, tumbled 
his body into a sink-hole, and covered it with brush and logs ; and 
then made his way for the camp, with a firm determination of 
closing the bloody tragedy by killing the third Indian. lie went 
out, and composedly waited at the camp for the return of the Indian. 
About sunset he saw him coming, with a load of game he had killed 
swung on his back. Martin went forward under the pretence of 
aiding to disencumber him of his load. When the Indian stooped 
down to be detached of his load, Marlin, with one fell swoop of his 
tomahawk, laid him in death’s eternal sleep. Being now in no 
danger of pursuit, he leisurely packed up w’hat plunder he could con¬ 
veniently carry with him, and made his way for the white settle¬ 
ments, where he safely arrived with the three Indian scalps, after an 
absence of nearly a year. 

The frontier men of that day could not anticipate any end to the 
Indian war, till one of the parties were exterminated. Martin 
Whetzel’s conduct upon this, as well as on every similar occasion, 
met with the decided approbation of his countrymen. Successful 
military achievements, which displayed unusual boldness and in¬ 
trepidity in the execution, not only met the approbation of the men, 
but also, what was more grateful and soul-cheering to the soldier’s 
feelings after returning from a successful Indian tour, he was sure of 
receiving the animating smiles of the fair sex. The soldier’s arm 
was considered the life-guard of the country, and such were the 
Whetzels in an eminent degree. 


JOHN WHETZEL. 

In the year 1791 or ’92, the Indians having made frequent incur¬ 
sions into the settlements, along the river Ohio, between Wheeling 
and the Mingo Bottom, sometimes killing or capturing whole families ; 
at other times stealing all the horses belonging to a station or fort, a 
company consisting of seven men, rendezvoused at a place called 
the Beech Bottom, on the Ohio river, a few miles below where 
Wellsburg has been erected. This company were John Whetzel, 
William M’Cullough, John Hough, Thomas Biggs, Joseph Hedges, 
Kinzie Dickerson, and a Mr. Linn. Their avowed object was to go 
to the Indian towns to steal horses. This was then considered a 
legal, honorable business, as we were then at open war with the 
Indians. It would only be retaliating upon them in their own way. 



354 


THE WHETZELS. 


These seven men were all trained to Indian warfare, and a life in the 
woods from their youth. Perhaps the western frontier, at no time, 
could furnish seven men whose souls were better fitted, and whose 
nerves and sinews were better strung to perform any enterprise 
which required resolution and firmness. They crossed the Ohio, 
and proceeded with cautious steps, and vigilant glances on their way 
through the cheerless, dark, and almost impervious forest, in the 
Indian country, till they came to an Indian town, near where the 
head waters of the Sandusky and Muskingum rivers interlock. Here 
they made a fine haul, and set oft' homeward with about fifteen 
horses. They travelled rapidly, only making short halts, to let 
their horses graze, and breathe a short time to recruit their strength 
and activity. In the evening of the second day of their rapid retreat, 
they arrived at Wells Creek, not far from where the town of Cam¬ 
bridge has been since erected. Here Mr. Linn was taken violently 
sick, and they must stop their march, or leave him alone, to perish 
in the dark and lonely woods. Our frontier men, notwithstanding 
their rough and unpolished manners, had too much of my Uncle 
Toby’s “ sympathy for suffering humanity,” to forsake a comrade 
in distress. They halted, and placed sentinels on their back trail, 
who remained there till late in the night, without seeing any signs 
of being pursued. The sentinels on the back trail returned to the 
camp, Mr. Linn still lying in excruciating pain. All the simple 
remedies in their power were administered to the sick man, without 
producing any effect. Being late in the night, they all lay down to 
rest, except one who was placed as guard. Their camp was on the 
bank of a small branch. Just before day-break the guard took a 
small bucket, and dipped some water out of the stream ; on carry¬ 
ing it to the fire he discovered the water to be muddy. The muddy 
water waked his suspicion that the enemy might be approaching 
them, and were walking down in the stream, as their footsteps would 
be noiseless in the water. He waked his companions, and com¬ 
municated his suspicion. They arose, examined the branch a little 
distance, and listened attentively for some time; but neither saw nor 
heard any thing, and then concluded it must have been raccoons, or 
some other animals, puddling in the stream. After this conclusion 
the company all lay down to rest, except the sentinel, who was 
stationed just outside of the light. Happily tor them the fire had 
burned down, and only a few coals afforded a dim light to point out 
where they lay. The enemy had come silently down the creek, as 
the sentinel suspected, to within ten or twelve feet of the place where 
they lay, and fired several guns over the bank. Mr. Linn, the sick 
man, was lying with his side towards the bank, and received nearly 
all the balls which were at first fired. The Indians then, with 
tremendous yells, mounted the bank with loaded rifles, war-clubs, 
and tomahawks, rushed upon our men, who fled barefooted, and 
without arms. Mr. Linn, Thomas Biggs, and Joseph Hedges were 
killed in and near the camp. William M’Cullough had run but a 
short distance when he was fired at by the enemy. At the instant 


THE WHETZELS. 


355 


the fire was given, lie jumped into a quagmire and fell; the Indians 
supposing that they had killed him, ran past in pursuit of others, 
lie soon extricated himself out of the mire, and so made his escape. 
He fell in with John Hough, and came into Wheeling. John 
Whetzel and Kinzie Dickerson met in their retreat, and returned 
together. Those who made their escepe were without arms, with¬ 
out clothing or provision. The»r sufferings were great; but this 
they bore with stoical indifference, as it was the fortune of war. 
Whether the Indians who defeated our heroes followed in pursuit 
from their towns, or were a party of warriors, who accidentally 
happened to fall in with them, has never been ascertained. From 
the place they had stolen the horses, they had travelled two nights 
and almost two entire days, without halting, except just a few 
minutes at a time, to let the horses graze. From the circumstance 
of their rapid retreat with the horses, it was supposed that no pur¬ 
suit could possibly have overtaken them, but that fate had decreed 
that this party of Indians should meet and defeat them. As soon as 
the stragglers arrived at Wheeling, Captain John M’ColIough 
collected a party of men, and went to Wells Creek, and buried the 
unfortunate men who fell in and near the camp. The Indians had 
mangled the dead bodies at a most barbarous rate. Thus was closed 
the horse-stealing tragedy. 

Of the four who survived this tragedy, none are now living to tell 
the story of their suffering. They continued to hunt and to fight as 
long as the war lasted. John Whetzel and Dickerson died in the 
country near Wheeling. John Hough died a few years since, near 
Columbia, Hamilton county, Ohio. The brave Captain William 
M’Cullough, fell in 1812 , in the battle of Brownstown, on the 
campaign with Gen. Hull. 


JOHN WHETZEL AND VEACH DICKERSON. 

John Whetzel and Veacli Dickerson associated to go on an Indian 
scout. They crossed the Ohio at the Mingo Bottom, three miles 
below where the town of Steubenville has since been constructed. 
They set off with the avowed intention of bringing an Indian priso¬ 
ner. They painted and dressed in complete Indian style, and could 
talk some in their language. What induced them to undertake this 
hazardous enterprize is now unknown; perhaps the novelty and 
danger of the undertaking prompted them to action. No reward 
was given for either* prisoners or scalps ; nor were they employed; 
or paid by government. Every man fought on his own hook, fur¬ 
nished his own arms and ammunition, and carried his own baggage. 
This was, to all intents, a democratic war, as every one fought as 
often and as long as he pleased; either by himself, or with such 
company as he could confide in. As the white men on the frontier 
took but few prisoners, Whetzel and Dickerson concluded to change 
the practice, and bring in an Indian to make a pet. Whatever 
whim may have induced them, they set off with the avowed intcn- 



356 


THE WHETZELS. 


tion of bringing in a prisoner, or losing their own scalps in the 
attempt. They pushed through the Indian country with silent 
treads and a keen look out, till they went near the head of the San¬ 
dusky river, where they came near to a small Indian village. They 
concealed themselves near to a patch which appeared to be consid¬ 
erably travelled. In the course of the first day of their ambush, they 
saw several small companies of Indians pass them. As it was not 
their wish to raise an alarm among the enemy, they permitted them 
to pass undisturbed. In the evening of the next day, they saw two 
Indians coming sauntering along the road in quite a merry mood. 
They immediately stepped into the road, and with a confident air, as 
if they were meeting friends, went forward until they came within 
reach of the enemy. Whetzel drew his tomahawk, and with one 
sweep knocked an Indian down ; at the same instant Dickerson 
grasped the other in his arms, and threw him on the ground. By 
this time Whetzel had killed the other, and turned his hand to aid 
in fastening the prisoner. This completed, they scalped the dead 
Indian, and set off with the prisoner for home. They travelled all 
that night on the war-path leading towards Wheeling. In the morn¬ 
ing they struck off from the path, and making diverse courses, and 
keeping on the hardest ground, where their feet would make the 
least impression, as this would render their trail more difficult to 
follow in case they should be pursued. They pushed along till 
they had crossed the Muskingum some distance, when their prisoner 
began to show a restive, stubborn disposition ; he finally threw himself 
on the ground and refused to rise. He held down his head, and 
told them they might tomahawk him as soon as they pleased, for he 
was determined to go no farther. “ They used every argument they 
could think of to induce him to proceed, but without any effect. 
He said * he would prefer dying in his native woods, than to pre¬ 
serve his life a little longer, and at last be tortured by fire, and his 
body mangled for sport, when they took him to their towns.’ They 
assured him his life would be spared, and that he would be well 
used and treated with plenty.” But all their efforts would not in¬ 
duce him to rise to his feet. The idea that he would be put to death 
for sport, or in revenge, in presence of a large number of spectators, 
who would enjoy with raptures the scenes of his torture and death, 
had taken such a strong hold of his mind, that he determined to dis¬ 
appoint the possibility of their being gratified at his expense. As it 
was not their wish to kill him, from coaxing, they concluded to try 
if a hiekory well applied would not bend his stubborn soul. This, 
too, failed to have any effect. He appeared to be as callous and 
indifferent to the lash, as if he had been a cooper’s horse. What 
invincible resolution and fortitude was evinced by this son of the 
forest! Finding all their efforts to urge him forward ineffectual, 
they determined to put him to death. They then tomahawked and 
scalped him, and left his body a prey to the wild beasts of the forest, 
and to the birds of the air. Our heroes then returned home with 
their two scalps ; but vexed and disappointed that they could not 
bring with them the prisoner. 


THE WHETZELS. 


357 


JACOB WHETZEL AND SIMON KENTON. 

Of Jacob "WhetzePs history I can give but a meagre account, 
although I have heard of many of his exploits in the old Indian war. 
But my recollection of them is so indistinct and confused, that I will 
not attempt to relate but one of the numerous fights in which he was 
engaged. In that battle he had a comrade who was his equal in in¬ 
trepidity, and his superior in that cautious prudence which consti¬ 
tutes the efficient warrior. That headstrong fury, with which many 
of our old frontier men rushed into danger, was the cause of many 
distressing disasters. They frequently by their headlong course 
performed such successful actions, that if any military exploits de¬ 
serve the character of sublime, theirs were eminently such. When 
the voice of mankind assigns eminence to any pursuit, men of high- 
toned ambition will soon engage in it with ardor. Whether it be a 
reform in government, or a reform in morals; whether it be high 
tariff, or a bank reform, or to take the greatest number of the scalps 
of enemies, men of lively, ardent temperaments, will rush into the 
contest for distinction; they will go as far as the foremost, or die in 
the struggle. 

But to return to my subject: The following relation I had from 
Gen. Kenton :—Kenton and Whetzel made arrangements to make a 
fall hunt together; and for that purpose they went into the hilly 
country, near the mouth of the Kentucky river. When they arrived 
in that part of the country in which they intended to make their 
hunt, they discovered some signs of Indians having pre-occupied the 
ground. It would have been out of character in a Kenton and a 
Whetzel to retreat, without first ascertaining the description and 
number of the enemy. They determined to find the Indian camp, 
which they believed was at no great distance from them, as they 
had heard reports of guns late in the evening, and early the next 
morning, in the same direction. This convinced them that the camp 
was at no great distance from the firing. Our heroes moved cau¬ 
tiously about, making as little sign as possible, that they might not 
be discovered by the enemy. Towards evening of the second day 
after they arrived on the ground, they discovered the Indian camp. 
They kept themselves concealed, determined as soon as night ap¬ 
proached to reconnoitre the situation and number of the enemy; 
and then govern their future operations as prudence might dictate. 
They found five Indians in the camp. Having confidence in them¬ 
selves, and in their usual good fortune, they concluded to attack 
them boldly. Contrary to military rules, they agreed to defer the 
attack till light. In military affairs it is a general rule to avoid night 
fights, except where small numbers intend to assault a larger force. 
The night is then chosen, as in the darkness, the numbers of the 
assailants being uncertain, may produce panics and confusion, which 
may give the victory to far inferior numbers. Our heroes chose 
daylight and an open field for the fight. There was a large fallen 
tree lying near the camp ; this would serve as a rampart for defence, 


358 


THE WHETZELS. 


and would also serve to conceal them from observation till the battle 
commenced. They took their station behind the log, and there lay 
till broad day light, when they were able to draw a clear bead. 
Jacob Whetzel had a double-barrelled rifle. Their guns were cocked 
—they took aim, and gave the preconcerted signal—fired, and two 
Indians fell. As quick as thought, Whetzel fired his second load, 
and down fell the third Indian. Their number was equal, and they 
bounded over the log, screaming and yelling at the highest pitch of 
their voices, to strike terror into their remaining enemies ; and were 
among them before they recovered from the sudden surprise. The 
two remaining Indians, without arms, took to their heels, and ran in 
different directions. Kenton pursued one, whom he soon overhaul¬ 
ed, tomahawked, and scalped, and then returned with the bloody 
trophy to the camp. Shortly after, Whetzel returned with the scalp 
of the fifth Indian. This was a wholesale slaughter, that but few 
except such men as a Kenton and a Whetzel, would have attempted. 


LEWIS WHETZEL. 

The first I recollect of seeing this distinguished warrior, was when 
he attached himself to a scouting party, about the year 1787 or ’88. 
My father then lived on the bank of the Ohio, in Virginia, at a 
place known as the Mingo Bottom, three miles below Steubenville. 
A party of Indians had crossed the Ohio, not far from where we 
lived, and killed a family, and then made their escape with impunity. 
As the Indians had not crossed the Ohio in that neighborhood for a 
year or two previous, the settlers began to think they could live with 
safety in their cabins. This unexpected murder spread great alarm 
through the sparse settlements, and revenge was determined upon. 
Some of the settlers who were in easy circumstances, in order to 
stimulate the young and active to take vengeance on the enemy, pro¬ 
posed to draw up a subscription, and give a handsome reward to the 
man who would bring the first Indian scalp. Upwards of one 
hundred dollars were subscribed. Major M’Mahan, who frequently 
led the hardy frontier men in those perilous times, soon raised a 
company of about twenty men, among whom was Lewis Whetzel. 
They crossed the Ohio, and pursued the Indians’ trail with unerring 
tact, till they came to the Muskingum river. There the advance, 
or spies, discovered a party of Indians far superior to their own in 
number, camped on the bank of the river. As the Indians had not 
yet discovered the white men, Major M’Mahan retreated with his 
party to the top of the hill, where they might consult about their 
future operations. The conclusion of the conference was, “ that 
discretion was the better part of valour,” and a hasty retreat was 
prudently resolved on. While the party w r ere consulting on the 
propriety of attacking the Indians, Lewis Whetzel sat on a log, with 
his gun laid across his lap, and his tomahawk in his hand ; he took 
no part in the council. As soon as the resolution was adopted to 
retreat, it was without delay put in execution ; and the party set off, 



THE WHETZELS. 


359 


leaving Lewis sitting on the log. Major M’Mahan called to him, 
and inquired if he was going with them. Lewis answered, “ that he 
was not; that he came out to hunt Indians ; they were now found, 
and he was not going home like a fool with his finger in his mouth. 
He would take an Indian scalp, or lose his own before he went 
home.” All their arguments were without avail. His stubborn, 
unyielding disposition was such, that he never submitted himself to 
the control or advice of others ; they were compelled to leave him, 
a solitary being in the midst of the thick forest, surrounded by 
vigilant enemies. Notwithstanding that this solitary individual 
appeared to rush into danger with the fury of a madman, in his dis¬ 
position was displayed the cunning of a fox, as well as the boldness 
of the lion. 

As soon as his friends had left him, he picked up his blanket, 
shouldered his rifle, and struck off into a different part of the country, 
in hope that fortune would place in his way some lone Indian. He 
kept aloof from the large streams, where large parties of the enemy 
generally camped. He prowled through the woods with a noiseless 
tread and the keeiTglance of the eagle, that day, and the next till even¬ 
ing, when he discovered a smoke curling up among the bushes. He 
crept softly to the fire, and found two blankets and a small copper ket¬ 
tle in the camp. He instantly concluded that this was the camp of 
only two Indians, and that he could kill them both. He concealed him¬ 
self in the thick brush, but in such a position that he could see the 
number and motions of the enemy. About sunset, one of the Indians 
came in and made up the fire, and went to cooking his supper. Shortly 
after, the other came iu ; they ate their supper; after which they 
began to sing, and amuse themselves by telling comic stories, at 
which they would burst into a roar of laughter. Singing, and telling 
amusing stories, was the common practice of the white and red men 
when lying in their hunting camps. These poor fellows, when 
enjoying themselves in the utmost glee, little dreamed that the grim 
monster, Death, in the shape of Lewis Whetzel, was about stealing 
a march upon them. Lewis kept a keen watch on their manoeuvres. 
About nine or ten o’clock at night, one of the Indians wrapped his 
blanket around him, shouldered his rifle, took a chunk of fire in 
his hand, and left the camp doubtless with the intention of going to 
watch a deer-lick. The fire and smoke would serve to keep off the 
gnats and musketoes. It is a remarkable fact, that deer are not 
•alarmed at seeing fire, from the circumstance of seeing it so frequent¬ 
ly in the fall and winter seasons, when the leaves and grass are dry, 
and the woods on fire. The absence of the Indian was the cause of 
vexation and disappointment to our hero, whose trap was so happily 
set, that he considered his game secure. He still indulged the hope, 
that the Indian might return to camp before day. In this he was 
disappointed. There were birds in the woods who chirped and 
chattered just before break of day ; and like the cock, gave notice to 
the woodsman that day would soon appear. Lewis heard the 
wooded songster begin to chatter, and determined to delay no longer 
31 


360 


THE WHETZELS. 


the work of death for the return of the Indian. He walked to the 
camp with a noiseless step, and found his victim buried in profound 
sleep, laying upon his side. He drew his butcher-knife, and with 
all his force, impelled by revenge, he sent the blade through his 
heart. He said the Indian gave a short quiver, and a convulsive 
motion, and laid still in death’s eternal sleep. He then scalped him, 
and set off for home. He arrived at the Mingo Bottom only one 
day after his unsuccessful companions. He claimed, and as he 
should, received his reward. 

Some time after General Harmer had erected a fort at the mouth 
of the Muskingum river, he prevailed on some white men to go 
with a flag among the nearest Indian tribes, and endeavor to prevail 
with them to come to the fort, and there to conclude a treaty of 
peace. A large number of Indians came on the general invitation, 
and camped on the Muskingum river, a few miles above its mouth. 
General Harmer issued a proclamation, giving notice that a cessa¬ 
tion of arms was mutually agreed upon between the white and red 
men, till an effort for a treaty of peace should be concluded. As 
treaties of peace with the Indians had been so frequently violated, 
but little faith was placed in the stability of such treaties by the fron¬ 
tier men ; notwithstanding that they were as frequently the aggres¬ 
sors as were the Indians. Half the frontier men of that day had 
been born in a fort, and grew to manhood, as it were, in a siege. 
The Indian war had continued so long, and was so bloody, that they 
believed war with them was to continue as long as one lived to make 
fight. With these impressions, as they considered the Indians 
faithless, it was difficult to inspire confidence in the stability of trea¬ 
ties. While General Harmer was diligently engaged with the 
Indians, endeavoring to make peace, Lewis Whetzel concluded to 
go to Fort Harmer, and as the Indians would be passing and repass¬ 
ing between their camp and the fort, would offer a fair opportunity 
of killing one. He associated with himself in this enterprise a man 
by the name of Yeach Dickerson, who was only a small grade be¬ 
low himself in restless daring. As soon as the enterprise was 
resolved on, they were impatient to put it in execution. The more 
danger, the more excited and impatient they were to execute their 
plan. They set off without delay, and arrived at the desired point, 
and sat themselves down in ambush, near the path leading from the 
fort to the Indian camp. Shortly after they had concealed them¬ 
selves by the way-side, they saw an Indian approaching on horse¬ 
back, running his horse at full speed. They called to him, but 
owing to the clatter of the horse’s feet, he did not hear, or heed their 
call, but kept on at a sweeping gallop. When the Indian had nearly 
passed, they concluded to give him a fire as he rode. They fired ; 
but as the Indian did not fall, they thought they had missed him. 
As the alarm would soon be spread that an Indian had been shot at; 
and as large numbers of them were near at hand, they commenced 
an immediate retreat to their home. As their neighbers knew the 
object of their expedition, as soon as they returned, they were asked 


THE WHETZELS. 


361 


what luck? Whetzel answered, “that they had bad luck—they 
had seen but one Indian, and he on horseback—that they fired at 
him as he rode, but he did not fall, but went oft at full speed, scratch¬ 
ing his back as if he had been stung by a yellow jacket.” The 
truth was they had shot him through the hips and lower part of the 
belly. He rode to the fort and that night expired of his wound. 

It was soon rumored to General Ilarmer, that Lewis Whetzel was 
the murderer. General Harmer sent a Captain Kingsbury with a 
company of men to the Mingo Bottom, with orders to take Whetzel, 
alive or dead—a useless and impotent order. A company of men 
could as easily have drawn old Horny out of the bottomless pit, as 
take Lewis Whetzel by force from the neighborhood of the Mingo 
Bottom. On the day that Captain Kingsbury arrived, there was a 
shooting match at my father’s, and Lewis was there. As soon as 
the object of Captain Kingsbury was ascertained, it was resolved to 
ambush the Captain’s barge, and kill him and his company. Hap¬ 
pily, Major M’Mahan was present, to prevent this catastrophe, and 
prevailed on Whetzel and his friends to suspend the attack till he 
would pay Captain Kingsbury a visit, and perhaps he would prevail 
with him to return without making an attempt to take Whetzel.— 
With a great deal of reluctance they agreed to suspend the attack till 
Major M’Mahan should return. The resentment and fury of Whet¬ 
zel and his friends were boiling and blowing, like the steam from a 
scape-pipe of a steamboat. “ A pretty affair this,” said they, “ to 
hang a man for killing an Indian, when they are killing some of our 
people almost every day.” Major McMahan informed Captain 
Kingsbury of the force and fury of the people, and assured him that 
if he persisted in the attempt to seize Whetzel, he would have all 
the settlers in the country upon him; that nothing could save him 
and his company from massacre, but a speedy return. The Captain 
took his advice, and forthwith returned to Fort Harmer. Whetzel 
considered the affair now as finally adjusted. 

As Lewis was never long stationary, but ranged at will along the 
river from Fort Pitt to the falls of the Ohio, and was a welcome 
guest and perfectly at home wherever he went, shortly after the 
attempt to seize him by Captain Kingsbury, he got into a canoe, 
with the intention of proceeding down the Ohio to Kentucky. He 
had a friend by the name of Hamilton Carr, who had lately settled 
on the island near Fort Harmer. Here he stopped, with a view of 
lodging for the night. By some means which never were explained. 
General Harmer was advised of his being on the island. A guard 
was sent, who crossed to the island, surrounded Mr. Carr’s house, 
went in, and as Whetzel lay asleep, he was seized by numbers; 
his hands and feet were securely bound, and he hurried into a boat, 
and from thence placed in a guard-room, where lie was loaded with 
irons. The ignominy of wearing iron hand-cuffs and hobbles, and 
being chained down, to a man of his independent and resolute spirit, 
was more painful than death. Shortly after he was confined, he 
sent for General Harmer, and requested a visit. The General went. 


362 


THE WHETZELS. 


Whetzel admitted, without hesitation, “ that he had shot the Indian.” 
As he did not wish to be hung like a dog, he requested the General 
to give him up to the Indians, as there were a large number of them 
present. “ He might place them all in a circle, with their scalping 
knives and tomahawks—and give him a tomahawk, and place him 
in the midst of the circle, and then let him and the Indians fight it 
out in the best way they could.” The General told him, “ That he 
was an officer appointed by the law, by which he must be governed. 
As the law did not authorize him to make such a compromise, he 
could not grant his request.” After a few days longer confinement, 
lie again sent for the General to come and see him; and he did so. 
Whetzel said “ he had never been confined, and could not live much 
longer if he was not permitted some room to walk about.” The 
General ordered the officer on guard to knock off his iron fetters, 
hut to leave on his handcuffs, and permit him to walk about on the 
point at the mouth of the Muskingum ; but to be sure to keep a 
close watch upon him. As soon as they were outside of the fort 
gate, Lewis began to caper about like a wild colt broke loose from 
the stall. He would start and run a few yards as if he was about 
making an escape, then turn round and join the guard. The next 
start he would run farther, and then stop. In this way he amused 
the guard for some time, at every start running a little farther. At 
length he called forth all his strength, resolution, and activity, and 
determined on freedom or an early grave. He gave a sudden spring 
forward, and bounded off at the top of his speed for the shelter of his 
beloved woods. His movement was so quick, and so unexpected, that 
the guard were taken by surprise, and he got nearly a hundred yards 
before they recovered from their astonishment. They fired, but all 
missed ; they followed in pursuit, but he soon left them out of sight. 
As he was well acquainted with the country, he made for a dense 
thicket, about two or three miles from the fort. In the midst of 
this thicket, he found a tree which had fallen across a log, where 
the brush were very close. Under this tree he squeezed his body. 
The brush were so thick that he could not be discovered unless his 
pursuers examined very closely. As soon as his escape was an¬ 
nounced, General Harmer started the soldiers and Indians in pursuit. 
After he had laid about two hours in his place of concealment, two 
Indians came into the thicket, and stood on the same log under 
which he lay concealed ; his heart beat so violently he was afraid 
they would hear it thumping. He could hear them hallooing in 
every direction, as they hunted through the brush. At length, as 
the evening wore away the day, he found himself alone in the 
friendly thicket. But what should he do ? His hands were fastened 
with iron cuffs and bolts, and he knew of no friend on the same side 
of the Ohio to whom he could apply for assistance. He had a friend 
who had recently put up a cabin on the Virginia side of the Ohio, 
who, he had no doubt, would lend him any assistance in his power. 
With the most gloomy foreboding of the future, a little after night-fall, 
he left the thicket and made his way to the Ohio. He came to the 


THE WHETZELS. 


363 


river about three or four miles below the fort. He took this circuit, 
as he expected guards would be set at every point where he could 
find a canoe. How to get across the river was the all-important 
question. He could not make a raft with his hands bound. He was 
an excellent swimmer, but was fearful he could not swim the Ohio 
with his heavy iron handcuffs. After pausing some time, he deter¬ 
mined to make the attempt. Nothing worse than death could hap¬ 
pen ; and he would prefer drowning to again falling into the hands 
of Harmer and his Indians. Like the illustrious Caesar in the storm, 
he would trust the event to fortune; and he plunged into the river. 
He swam the greatest part of the distance on his back, and reached 
the Virginia shore in safety; but so much exhausted, that he had to 
lay on the beach some time before he was able to rise. He went to 
the cabin of his friend, where he was received with rapture. A file 
and hammer soon released him from his iron handcuffs. His friend 
(I have forgotten his name) furnished him a gun, ammunition and 
blanket, and he was again free, and prepared to engage in any new 
enterprise that would strike his fancy. He got into a canoe, and 
went to Kentucky, where he considered himself safe from the grasp 
of General Harmer. 

Perhaps my readers may think me too minute in relating this 
affair. My apology is, that this transaction caused Whetzel more 
uneasiness, vexation and suffering, than all the other acts of his life. 
And besides, it shows in a conspicuous manner his indomitable 
spirit, in overcoming difficulties before which the bravest might 
quail. 

Some time after Whelzel’s escape, General Harmer moved his 
head quarters to Fort Washington. From there he issued a procla¬ 
mation, offering a considerable reward for his capture and delivery 
at Fort Washington. But no Kentuckian could be induced, for any 
reward which could be given, to apprehend this prince of valiant 
soldiers. 

Whetzel was engaged the most of his time on hunting parties, or 
on scouts after Indians. When he was not engaged in these peril¬ 
ous pursuits, he would amuse himself at Maysville and Washington, 
at shooting matches, foot racing, or wrestling with other hunters. 

While engaged in one of his usual frolicks, at Maysville, a Lieu¬ 
tenant Loller, of the regular army, who was going down the Ohio 
to Fort Washington, in what was called a Kentucky boat, full of 
soldiers, landed at Maysville, and found Whetzel sitting in a tavern. 
Loller returned to his boat and got a file of soldiers, seized Whetzel, 
and dragged him aboard of the boat, and without a moment’s delay 
pushed off, and that night delivered him to General Harmer at Fort 
Washington, where he again had to undergo the ignominy of having 
his hands and feet bound with irons. The noise of Whetzel’s cap¬ 
ture—and captured, too, for only killing an Indian—spread through 
the country like wild-fire. The passions of the frontier men were 
roused up to the highest pitch of fury. Petitions for the release of 
Whetzel were sent from the most influential men to the General, 
31* 


364 


THE WIIETZELS. 


from every quarter where the story had been heard. The General 
at first paid but little attention to these petitions. At length all the 
settlements along the Ohio, and some of the back counties, were 
preparing to embody in military array, to release him by force of 
arms. General Harmer, seeing the storm that was approaching, 
had Whetzel’s irons knocked off, and set him at liberty. 

Whetzel was once more a free man. He returned to his friends, 
and was caressed by young and old, with undiminished respect. 
The vast number of scalps which he had taken, proved his invinci¬ 
ble courage, as well as his prowess in war; the sufferings and per¬ 
secutions by which he had been pursued by General Harmer, secured 
for him the sympathy of the frontier men. The higher he was 
esteemed, the lower sank the character of General Harmer with the 
fiery spirits on the frontier. 


LEWIS WHETZEL KILLING THREE INDIANS. 

Many of the frontier men devoted their whole lives to war. 
Should they happen to stay long at a station, or fort, without being 
excited by some frightful alarm, or animated by an Indian skirmish, 
they would appear listless—their time would appear irksome on 
their hands ; and as the poet said— 

“ A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed 
in passing off their time in the dull sameness of stationary lives. 
Their happiness consisted in perpetual change of scenes. A life in 
the woods, with an occasional Indian fight, furnished them with 
subjects of discourse, till their stories grew stale by repetition ; then 
away to the woods, risk their lives by “flood and field”—then 
return with a new cargo, which was related to as fond hearers as 
ever listened to a dramatic performance. Although a life in the 
woods, to those unaccustomed to such scenes, would be irksome and 
solitary in the highest degree ; yet the hunter, when alone in the 
deepest and darkest forest, never feels solitary. His excitement is 
kept continually on the stretch, to take advantage of his game, or to 
circumvent his enemies. He has not, in his continual bustle, leisure 
to feel himself alone. In the long Indian war, many tragedies were 
acted by both red and white men, which for address and boldness, 
and even horrors in execution, throw the fabulous actions of romantic 
heroes completely into the shade. One more of Lewis Whetzel’s 
tragedies, and I am done. He set oft’ alone (as was frequently his 
custom) on an Indian hunt. It was late in the fall of the year, when 
the Indians were generally scattered in small parties on their hunting 
grounds. He proceeded somewhere on the waters of the Muskingum 
river, and found a camp where four Indians had fixed their quarters 
for a winter hunt. The Indians, unsuspicious of any enemies 
prowling about them so late in the season, were completely off their 
guard, keeping neither watch nor sentinels. Whetzel at first 
hesitated about the propriety of attacking such overwhelming num¬ 
bers. After some reflection, he concluded to trust to his usual good 




THE WHETZELS. 


365 


fortune, and began to meditate upon his plan of attack. He con¬ 
cluded their first sleep would be the fittest time for him to commence 
the work of death. About midnight, he thought their senses would 
be the most profoundly wrapped in sleep. He determined to walk 
to the camp, with his rifle in one hand, and his tomahawk in the 
other. If any of them should happen to be awake, he could shoot 
one, and then run off in the darkness of the night, and make his 
escape ; should they be all asleep, he would make the onset with 
his trusty scalping-knife and tomahawk. Now, reader, imagine that 
you see him gliding through the darkness, with the silent, noiseless 
motion of an unearthly demon, seeking mischief, and the keen glance 
of the fabled Argus, and then you can imagine to your mind Whetzel’s 
silent and stealthy approach upon his sleeping enemies. On he 
went to the camp, the fire burning dimly, but affording sufficient 
light to distinguish the forms of his sleeping victims. With calm 
intrepidity he stood a moment, reflecting on the best plan to make 
the desperate assault. He set his rifle against a tree, determined to 
use only his knife and tomahawk ; as these would not miss their 
aim, if properly handled with a well strung arm. What a thrilling, 
horrible sight! See him leaning forward, with cool self-possession, 
and eager vengeance, as if he had been the minister of death ; he 
stands a moment, then wielding his tomahawk, with the first blow 
leaves one of them in death’s eternal sleep. As quick as lightning, 
and with tremendous yells, he applies the tomahawk to the second 
Indian’s head, and sent his soul to the land of spirits. As the third 
was rising, confounded and confused with the unexpected attack, at 
two blows he fell lifeless to the ground. The fourth darted off, 
naked as he was, to the woods. Whetzel pursued him some dis¬ 
tance, but finally he made his escape. This successful enterprise 
places our hero, for “ deeds of noble daring,” without a rival. From 
the pursuit he returned to the camp, scalped the three Indians, and 
then returned home. What Ossian said of some of his heroes, 
might with equal propriety be said of Whetzel—the western “ clouds 
were hung round with ghosts.” When he came home, he was 
asked what luck he had on his expedition ? He replied, “ Not very 
good; that he had treed four Indians, and one got away from him ; 
that he had taken but three scalps, after all his pains and latigue.” 

The number of scalps taken by the Whetzels in the course of the 
long Indian war, exceed belief. There is no doubt they were very 
little short of one hundred. War was the business of their lives. 
They would prowl through the Indian country singly, suffer all the 
fatigues of hasty marches in bad weather, or starvation, laying in 
close concealment, watching for a favorable opportunity to inflict 
death on the devoted victims who would be so unfortunate as to 
come within their vindictive grasp. 

Of Martin and John Whetzel, I have but a faint recollection of 
their personal appearance. Jacob Whetzel was a large man, of full 
habit, but not corpulent. He was about six feet high, and weighed 
about two hundred pounds. He was a cheerful, pleasant companion; 


366 


THE WHETZELS. 


and in every respect as much of a gentleman in his manners as most 
of the frontier men. They were all dark skinned, and wore their 
hair cued, which was very long and thick, as no part of it was 
suffered to be cut oft. Lewis Whetzel was about five feet nine 
inches high. He had a full breast, was very broad across the 
shoulders ; his arms were large—his limbs were not heavy—his 
skin was darker than was his brother’s—his face was considerably 
pitted by the small pox—his hair, of which he was very careful, 
reached, when combed out, to the calves of his legs—his eyes were 
remarkably black, and when excited (which was easily done,) they 
would sparkle with such a vindictive glance, as almost to curdle the 
blood to look at him. In his appearance and gait there was some¬ 
thing different from other men. Like one of Homer’s heroes— 

“ Thus stalked he dreadful, death was in his look.” 

Where he professed friendship, he was as true as the needle to the 
pole ; his enmity was always dangerous. In mixed company he 
was a man of few words; but with his particular friends he was a 
social, and even a cheerful companion. Notwithstanding their 
numberless exploits in war, they were no braggadocios. When 
they had killed their enemies, they thought no more about it than a 
butcher would after killing a bullock. It was their trade. 

It is not claimed that all the old frontier men were such dare-devils 
as were the Whelzels. If they had been, the country could never 
have been settled. The men who went forward with families, and 
erected block housss, and forts, and remained stationary to defend 
them, and to cultivate the earth, were the most efficient settlers. 
The Whetzels, and others of the same grit, served as kind of out- 
guards, who were continually ranging from station to station in 
search of adventure ; so that it was almost impossible for large 
bodies of the enemy to approach the settlements, without being dis¬ 
covered by these vigilant, restless rangers, who would give the alarm 
to the forts. In this way all were useful; even the timid (for there 
were some such) would fight in defence of their fort. 

Having now closed these narratives, I take my leave of the sub¬ 
ject. Having concluded the reading public would be gratified with 
being presented with sketches of the doings of the old prioneer race, 
however coarsely they may be written ; the sufferings, privations, 
and heroism of the old frontier men, who so nobly cleared the way 
for settling our western world, deserve, as they were.the first actors, 
the first place in the history of our country. Many of these heroes 
bled and died in the cause; whilst others, by exposure and priva¬ 
tions, contracted diseases which sent them into premature graves. 
They knew nothing, about the artificial technicalities of politics, or 
theology. But however destitute they were, in the polish of science, 
they proved by their acts in a military point of view, that they 
had no superiors. If to perform successful and important enteprises, 
with small means, constitutes the essence of military greatness, then 
the splendid success of the men of whom I have written, should 
honor their names in all future time. 


BRIEF SKETCHES 

OF THE ADVENTURES OF SEVERAL INDIVIDUALS 


THE FRONTIER MEN.—GEN. WAYNE—CAPT. WELLS* 

There are certain'epochs in the history of every country, which 
the nation continues proud to perpetuate. The war for indepen¬ 
dence, and the first settlement of the western country being simul¬ 
taneous, the brilliant acts performed by our forefathers to effect those 
memorable objects, appear to form the critical era on which long 
hung in doubtful suspense the destiny of these United States. It 
will be admitted by all, that the old Indian war was a continuation 
of the war of the revolution. As Thomas Paine eloquently said at 
that time, “These are the times that try men’s souls. The sum¬ 
mer soldier, and sunshine patriot, will in this crisis shrink from the 
service of his country; but he that stands it out now, deserves the 
love and thanks of mankind.” In many scenes of the grand drama 
were tragedies performed, which for sublimity and boldness of exe¬ 
cution, throw fiction and romance into the shade. The names and 
characters of numbers of the actors have found a place in the history 
of the country ; but of many, very many, who have performed 
brilliant exploits, the names and memory are lost, whilst the names 
of others are only remembered in traditionary legends. 

The humble writer of this narrative grew to manhood in the midst 
of those scenes of peril, and having a personal knowledge of the 
subjects on which he writes, with truth for his guide, he has attempt¬ 
ed to add his mite to the history of his country. It is possible that 
he claims more merit for the achievements of the old frontier men 
than the men of the present day are willing to admit. However that 
may be, lie here presents to the reading public a few acts, which 
took place on the campaign with Gen. Wayne, in 1794. 

Gen. Wayne had a bold, vigilant, and dexterous enemy to con¬ 
tend with. It became indispensable for him to use the utmost 
caution in his movements, to guard against surprise. To secure his 
army against a possibility of being ambuscaded, he employed a 
number of the best woodmen the frontier afforded, to act as spies or 
rangers. Captain Ephraim Kibby, one of the first settlers at 
Columbia, eight miles above Cincinnati, who had distinguised him¬ 
self as a bold and intrepid soldier, in defending that infant settle¬ 
ment, commanded the principal part of the spies. The writer of this 


By the author of the preceding. 


368 


FRONTIER MEN. 


article, and his brother Thomas, were attached to Captain Kibby’s 
company of rangers. This will account for the author’s intimate 
knowledge of the subject of which he is giving a relation. A very 
effective division of the spies was commanded by Captain William 
Wells. Captain Wells had been taken prisoner by the Indians when 
quite a youth ; he grew to manhood with them, and consequently 
was well acquainted with all their wiles and stratagems. From 
causes not now remembered, about eighteen months previous to the 
lime of which I am writing, he left the Indians, and returned to his 
relatives and friends in civilized life. Being raised by the Indians, 
well acquainted with the country which was about to be the theatre 
of action, talking several of their languages fluently, and withal, 
desperately brave, such a soldier was a real, effective acquisition to 
the army. Captian Wells was the same gentleman named by the 
Rev. O. M. Spencer, in the narrative of his capture by the Indians, 
and release from captivity. It was to Captain Wells that Mr. 
Spencer was primarily indebted for his liberty. (See Spencer’s 
Narrative, page 105.) I am particular in describing this corps of 
the army, as they performed more real service than any other.— 
Attached to Captain Wells’ command were the following men : 
Robert M’Lelland (whose name has been since immortalized by the 
graphic pen of Washington Irving, in his “Astoria,”) was one of 
the most athletic and active men on foot, that has appeared on this 
globe. On the grand parade at Fort Greenville, where the ground 
was very little inclined, to show his activity, he leaped over a road- 
wagon with the cover stretched over ; the wagon and bows were 
eight feet high. Next was Henry Miller. He and a younger 
brother, named Christopher, had been made captives by the Indians 
when young, and adopted into an Indian family. Henry Miller 
lived with them till he was about twenty-four years of age ; and 
although he had adopted all their manners and customs, he at that 
age began to think of returning to his relatives among the whites. 
The longer he reflected on the subject, the stronger his resolution 
grew to make an attempt to leave the Indians. He communicated 
his intention to his brother Christopher, and used every reason he 
was capable of, to induce his brother to accompany him in his flight. 
All his arguments were ineffectual. Christopher was young when 
made captive—he was now a good hunter, an expert woodsman, and 
in the full sense of the word, a free and independent Indian. Henry 
Miller set off alone through the woods, and arrived safe among his 
friends in Kentucky. Captain Wells was well acquainted with 
Miller during his captivity, and knew he possessed that firm intre¬ 
pidity which would render him a valuable companion in time of 
need. To these were added a Mr. Hickman, and Mr. Thorp, who 
were men of tried worth in Indian warfare. 

Captain Wells and his four companions were confidential and 
privileged gentlemen in camp, who were only called upon to do 
duty upon very particular and interesting occasions. They were 
permitted a carte blanche among the horses of the dragoons, and 


FRONTIER MEN, 


369 


when upon duty went well mounted ; whilst the spies commanded 
by Captain Kibby went on foot, and were kept constantly on the 
alert, scouring the country in every direction. 

The head-quarters of the army being at Fort Greenville, in the 
month of June, Gen. Wayne dispatched Captain Wells and his 
company, with orders to bring into camp an Indian as a prisoner, in 
order that he could interrogate him as to the future intentions of the 
enemy. Captain Wells proceeded with cautious steps through the 
Indian country. He crossed the river St. Mary, and thence to the 
river Auglaize, without meeting any straggling party of Indians. 
In passing up the Auglaize they discovered a smoke ; they then dis¬ 
mounted, tied their horses, and proceeded cautiously to reconnoitre 
the enemy. They found three Indians camped on a high, open 
piece of ground, clear of brush, or any under-wood. As it was open 
woods, they found it would be difficult to approach the camp without 
being discovered. Whilst they were reconnoitreing, they saw, not 
very distant from the camp, a tree which had lately fallen. They 
returned and went round the camp, so as to get the top of the fallen 
tree between them and the Indians. The tree-top being full of leaves, 
would serve as a shelter to screen them from observation. They 
went forward upon their hands and knees, with the noiseless move¬ 
ments of the cat, till they reached the tree-top. They were now 
within seventy or eighty yards of the camp. The Indians were 
sitting or standing about the fire, roasting their venison, laughing 
and making other merry antics, little dreaming that death was about 
stealing a march upon them. Arrived at the fallen tree, their pur¬ 
pose of attack was soon settled ; they determined to kill two of the 
enemy, and make the third prisoner. M’Lelland, it will be remem¬ 
bered, was almost as swift on foot as a deer of the forest; he was to 
catch the Indian, whilst to Wells and Miller was confided the duty 
of shooting the other two. One of them was to shoot the one on 
the right, and the other the one on the left. Their rifles were in 
prime order, the muzzles of their guns were placed on the log of the 
fallen tree, the sights were aimed for the Indians’ hearts—whiz went 
the balls, and both Indians fell. Before the smoke of the burnt 
powder had raised six feet, M’Lelland was running at full stretch, 
with tomahawk in hand, for the Indian. The Indian bounded off at 
the top of his speed, and made down the river; but by continuing 
in that direction he discovered that M’Lelland would head him. He 
turned his course, and made for the river. The river here had a 
bluff bank, about twenty feet high. When he came to the bank he 
sprang down into the river, the bottom of which was a soft mud, 
into which he sunk to the middle. While he was endeavoring to 
extricate himself out of the mud, M’Lelland came to the top of the 
high bank, and without hestation sprang upon upon him, as he was 
wallowing in the mire. The Indian drew his knife—M’Lelland 
raised his tomahawk—told him to throw down his knife, or he 
would kill him instantly. He threw down his knife, and surrendered 
without any further effort at resistance. By the time the scuffle had 


370 


FRONTIER MEN. 


ceased in the mire, Wells and his companions came to the bank, and 
discovered M’Lelland and the Indian quietly sticking in the mire. 
As their prisoner was now secure, they did not think it prudent to 
take the frightful leap the other had done. They went to a place 
where the bank was less precipitous, went down and dragged the 
captive out of the mud, and tied him. He was very sulky, and 
refused to speak either Indian on English. Some of the party went 
back for their horses, whilst others washed the mud and paint from 
the prisoner. When washed, he turned out to be a white man, but 
still refused to speak, or give any account of himself. The party 
scalped the two Indians whom they had shot, and then set off with 
their prisoner for head-quarters. Whilst on their return to Fort 
Greenville, Henry Miller began to admit the idea that it was possible 
their prisoner was his brother Christopher, whom he had left with 
the Indians some years previous. Under this impression he rode 
along side of him, and called him by his Indian name. At the sound 
of his name he started, and stared round, and eagerly inquired how 
he came to know his name. The mystery was soon explained— 
their prisoner was indeed Christopher Miller! A mysterious 
providence appeared to have placed Christopher Miller in a situation 
in the camp, by which his life was preserved. Had he been stand¬ 
ing on the right or left he would inevitably have been killed. But 
that fate which appears to have doomed the Indian race to extinction, 
permitted the white man to live, whilst the Indians were permitted 
to meet that “ fate they cannot shun.” 

Captain Wells arrived safely with their prisoner at Fort Green¬ 
ville. He was placed in the guard-house, where Gen. Wayne fre¬ 
quently interrogated him as to what he knew of the future intentions 
of the Indians. Captain Wells and Henry Miller were almost con¬ 
stantly with Christopher in the guard-house, urging him to leave off 
the thought of living longer with the Indians, and to join his relatives 
among the whites. Christopher for sometime was reserved and 
sulky, but at length became more cheerful, and agreed, if they would 
release him from confinement, that he would remain with the whites. 
Captain Wells and Henry Miller solicited Gen. Wayne for Christo¬ 
pher’s liberty. Gen. Wayne could scarcely deny such pleaders any 
request they could make, and without hesitation ordered Christopher 
Miller to be set at liberty ; remarking, that, should he deceive them 
and return to the enemy, they would be but one the stronger. 
Christopher was set at liberty, and appeared pleased with his change 
of situation. He was mounted on a fine horse, and otherwise well 
equipped for war. He joined the company with Captain Wells and 
his brother, and fought bravely against the Indians during the con¬ 
tinuance of the war. He was true to his word, and upon every oc¬ 
casion proved himself an intrepid and daring soldier. 

As soon as Captain Wells and company had rested themselves 
and recruited their horses, they were anxious for another bout with 
the red men. Time, without action, was irksome to such stirring 
spirits. Early in July they left Greenville ; their company was 


FRONTIER MEN. 


371 


then strengthened by the addition of Christopher Miller; their orders 
were to bring in prisoners. They pushed through the country, 
always dressed and painted in Indian style; they passed on, cross¬ 
ing the river St. Mary, and then through the country near to the 
river Auglaize, where they met a single Indian, and called to him to 
surrender. This man, notwithstanding that the whites were six 
against one, refused to surrender. He levelled his rifle, and as the 
whites were approaching him on horseback, he fired, but missed his 
mark, and then took to his heels to effect his escape. The under¬ 
growth of bruslt was so very thick that he gained upon his pursuers. 
M’Lelland and Christopher Miller dismounted, and M’Lelland soon 
overhauled him. The Indian finding himself overtaken by his pur¬ 
suers, turned round and made a blow at M’Lelland with his rifle, 
which was parried. As M’Lelland’s intention was not to kill, he 
kept him at bay till Christopher Miller came up, when they closed 
in upon him, and made him prisoner without receiving any injury. 
They turned about for head-quarters, and arrived safely at Fort 
Greenville. Their prisoner was reputed to be a Potawotamie chief, 
whose courage and prowess was scarcely equalled. As Christopher 
Miller had performed his part on this occasion to the entire satisfac¬ 
tion of the brave spirits with whom he acted, he had, as he merited, 
their entire confidence. 

It is not my intention to give a detailed account of the various 
actions performed by the spies attached to Gen. Wayne’s army ; 
although it would be a narrative most interesting to western readers. 
I have only selected a few of the acts performed by Captain Wells, 
and his enterprising followers, to show what kind of men they were. 
History, in no age of the world, furnishes so many instances of 
repeated acts of bravery as were performed by the frontier men of 
western Pennsylvania, western Virginia, and Kentucky ; yet these 
acts of apparent desperation were so frequently repeated by numbers, 
that they were scarcely noticed at the time as being any other than 
the common occurrences of the day. 

I have no doubt that during General Wayne’s campaign, Captain 
Wells, and the few men he commanded, brought in not less than 
twenty prisoners, and killed more than an equal number. To show 
that desperate as they were in combat, that bravery was only a part 
of their merit, is demonstrated by the following circumstance : On 
one of Captain Wells’ peregrinations through the Indian country, as 
he came to the bank of the river St. Mary, he discovered a family of 
Indians coming up the river in a canoe. He dismounted and con¬ 
cealed his men near the bank of the river, whilst he went himself to 
the bank, in open view, and called to the Indians to come over. As 
he was dressed in Indian style, and spoke to them in their own lan¬ 
guage, the Indians, not expecting an enemy in that part of the coun¬ 
try, without any suspecion of danger went across the river. The 
moment the canoe struck the shore, Wells heard the cocks of his 
comrades’ rifles cry “nick, nick,” as they prepared to shoot the 
Indians; but who should be in the canoe but his Indian father and 
32 


372 


FRONTIER MEN. 


another, with their children ! As his comrades were coming forward 
with their rifles cocked, ready to pour in the deadly storm upon 
the devoted Indians, Wells called upon them to hold their hands and 
desist. He then informed them who those Indians were, and so¬ 
lemnly declared, that the man who would attempt to injure one of 
them, would receive a ball in his head. He said to his men, “That 
that family had fed him when he was hungry, clothed him when he 
was naked, and kindly nursed him when sick; and in every respect 
were as kind and affectionate to him as they were to their own chil¬ 
dren.” This short, pathetic speech, found its way to the sympa¬ 
thetic hearts of his leather hunting-shirt comrades. Although they 
would have made but a shabby appearance on being introduced to a 
fashionable tea-party, or into a splendid ball-room, amongst polished 
grandees, or into a ceremonious levee, to pass through unmeaning 
becks, bows, and curtesies—the present was a scene of nature, and 
gratitude the motive; they all, at once, entered into their leader’s 
feelings. I never knew a truly brave man who could hold back a 
tear of sympathy at the joy, grief, or sorrow of his fellow man ; it 
is the timid coward who is cruel when he has the advantage. Those 
hardy soldiers approved of the motives of Captain Wells’ lenity to 
the enemy. They threw down their rifles and tomahawks, went to 
the canoe, and shook hands with the trembling Indians in the most 
friendly manner. Captain Wells assured them they had nothing to 
fear from him ; and after talking with them to dispel their fears, he 
said, “That Gen. Wayne was approaching with an overwhelming 
force ; that the best thing the Indians could do, was to make peace ; 
that the white men did not wish to continue the war. He urged his 
Indian father for the future to keep out of the reach of danger.” He 
then bid them farewell; they appeared very grateful for his clem¬ 
ency. They then pushed off their canoe, and went down the river 
as fast as they could propel her. Captain W T ells and his comrades, 
though perfect desperadoes in fight, upon this occasion proved they 
largely possessed that real gratitude and benevolence of heart which 
does honor to the human kind. 

Early in the month of August, when the main army had arrived 
at the place subsequently designated as Fort Defiance, Gen. Wayne 
wished to be informed of the intentions of the enemy. For the 
purpose, Captain Wells was again dispatched to bring in another 
prisoner. The distance from Fort Defiance to the British fort, at 
the mouth of the Maumee river, was only forty-five miles, and he 
would not have to travel far before he would find Indians. As his 
object was to bring in a prisoner, it became necessary for him to 
keep out of the way of large parties, and endeavor to fall in with 
stragglers, who might be easily subdued and captured. They went 
cautiously down the river Maumee, till they came opposite the site 
on which Fort Meigs was erected by General Harrison, in 1813. 
This was two miles above the British fort, then called Fort Camp¬ 
bell. On the west bank of the Maumee was an Indian village. 
Wells and his party rode into the village as if they had just come 


FRONTIER MEN. 


373 


from the British fort. Being dressed and painted in complete In¬ 
dian style, they rode through the village, occasionally stopping and 
talking to the Indians in their own language. No suspicion of who 
they were was excited, the enemy believing them to be Indians from 
a distance, coming to take a part in the battle which they all knew 
was shortly to be fought. After they had passed the village some 
distance, they fell in with an Indian man and woman on horse¬ 
back, who were returning to the town from hunting. This man 
and woman were made captives without resistance. They set off 
for Fort Defiance. As they were rapidly proceeding up the Maumee 
river, a little after dark, they came near a large encampment of In¬ 
dians, who were merrily amusing themselves around their camp¬ 
fires. Their prisoners were ordered to be silent, under pain of in¬ 
stant death. They went round the camp with their prisoners till 
they got about half a mile above it, where they halted to consult on 
their future operations. After consultation, they concluded to gag 
and tie their prisoners, and ride back to the Indian camp and give 
them a rally, in which each should kill his Indian. They delibe¬ 
rately got down, gagged, and fastened their prisoners to trees, rode 
boldly into the Indian encampment, and halted, with their rifles 
lying across the pummels of their saddles. They inquired when 
they had last heard of Gen. Wayne, and the movements of his army; 
how soon, and where it was expected the battle would be fought ? 
The Indians, who were standing around Wells and his desperadoes, 
were very communicative, answering all their interrogatories without 
suspecting any deceit in their visitors. At length an Indian, who 
was sitting some distance from them, said in an under tone, in 
another tongue, to some who were near him, that he suspected these 
strangers had some mischief in their heads. Wells overheard what 
he said, and immediately gave the pre-concerted signal, and each 
fired his rille into the body of an Indian, at not more than six feet 
distance. The Indian who had suspected them, the moment he 
made the remark, and a number of others, raised up with their rifles 
in their hands, but not before Wells and his party had each shot an 
Indian. As soon as Wells and his party fired, they put spurs to 
their horses, laying with their breasts to their horses’ necks, so as 
to lessen the mark of the enemy to fire at. They had not got out of 
the light of the camp-fire before the Indians shot at them. As 
M’Lelland lay close on his horse’s neck, he was shot, the ball pass¬ 
ing under his shoulder-blade, and coming out at the top of his shoul¬ 
der. Captain Wells was shot through the arm on which he carried 
his rifle; the arm was broken, and his trusty rifle fell. The rest of 
the party and their horses received no injury. 

What confidence, what self-possession was displayed by these 
men, in this terrific encounter! They beat Gen. Marion and his 
sergeants hollow ! They had come off unscathed in so many des¬ 
perate conflicts, that their souls were callous to danger. As they 
had no rivals in the army, they aimed to outdo their former exploits. 
To ride into the enemy’s camp, and enter into conversation with 


374 


FRONTIER MEN. 


them, without betraying the least appearance of trepidation, or con¬ 
fusion, proves how well their souls were steeled. This action of 
real life even rivals the fictitious though sublime muse of the Grecian 
poet. Homer sends forth his invincible hero, protected by the 
invulnerable panoply of Jupiter, to make a night attack upon the 
enemy. Diomede makes the successful assault upon sleeping foes. 
Not so our western heroes; they boldly went into the midst of the 
enemy, while their camp-fires were burning bright, and openly com¬ 
menced the work of death. After having performed this military act of 
supererogation, they rode at full speed to where their captives were 
confined, mounted them on horses, and set off for Fort Defiance. 
Captain Wells and M’Lelland were severely wounded; and to Fort 
Defiance, a distance of about thirty miles, they had to travel, before 
they could rest or receive the aid of a surgeon. As their march 
would be slow and painful, one of the party was dispatched at full 
speed to Fort Defiance, for a guard and a surgeon. As soon as 
Captain Well’s messenger arrived at Fort Defiance, with the tidings 
of the wounds and perilous situation of these heroic and faithful 
spies, very great sympathy was manifested in the minds of all. 
Gen. Wayne’s feeling for the suffering soldier was at all times 
quick and sensitive; we can then imagine how intense was his so¬ 
licitude when informed of the sufferings and perils of his confiden¬ 
tial and chosen band. Without a moment’s delay he dispatched a 
surgeon, and a company of the swiftest dragoons, to meet, assist, 
and guard these brave fellows to head-quarters. Suffice to say, they 
arrived safely in camp, and the wounded recovered in due course of 
time. 

As the battle was fought, and a brilliant victory won a few days 
after this affair took place, Captain Wells, and his daring comrades, 
were not engaged in any further acts of hostility till the war with 
the Indians was auspiciously concluded by a lasting treaty of peace. 

A new and happy era was about dawning on the west. A. cruel 
and exterminating war, of nearly fifty years’ continuance, was clos¬ 
ed by a general peace with the red men of the forest. The names 
and memories of these brave men, whose march was in the front of 
danger, should be held in veneration, by the millions who now 
repose in peace and quiet on the territory they acquired at the risk 
of their lives, in a thousand battles. 

It is very natural for the reader to inquire, what became of these 
men after the war terminated? What became of Thorp, Hickman, 
and the Iwo Millers, I have never learned ; but if alive, they proba¬ 
bly reside in some smoky cabin in the far and distant west, unknown 
and unhonored. The last I heard of the brave, hardy, and active 
M’Lelland, he had just returned to St. Louis, in 1812, from an 
expedition across the rocky mountains. He had been to the Pacific 
ocean, at the mouth of the Columbia river. Such a tour, through 
uncultivated, unpeopled oceans of the prairie, and then to labor 
through the tempestuous bursts of snow and sleet, which whirl in 
almost continual storms around the heights of the frightful world of 


FRONTIER MEN. 


375 


rocks which compose the dreary Rocky Mountains, where winter 
eternally reigns—this enterprise was equal to the daring genius ot 
the man. 

The fate of the brave and lamented Captain Wells was sealed 
during the late war, on the 15th of August, 1817, near Fort Dear- 
bone, at the mouth of the Chicago river, on the bank of Lake Michi¬ 
gan, where he was slain in an unequal combat; where sixty-four 
whites were attacked by upwards of four hundred Indian warriors. 
Then fell as bold a spirit as ever shouldered a rifle, or wielded a 
tomahawk. 

In attempting to describe the awful catastrophies, and frightful 
combats which took place on the western frontier, we sometimes 
meet with scenes to which language is not equal. “The conception 
is too bulky to be born alive, and in the struggle for expression, 
every finger tries to be a tongue,” when we reflect upon the bold 
assaults, or the ingenious, masterly retreats of the old frontier men, 
the patient fortitude with which they endured fatigue and hunger. 
It is evident that man little knows, till he is tried, what calamities 
and hardships he can endure. The dangers from their enemies, 
though great, were only an item in the catalogue of their sufferings. 
They had to travel through thick woods, without road or path, 
scratched with briars, stung by nettles, or torn by thorns. When 
night approached, no shelter to protect them against “ the pithless 
pelting of the storm,” or comfortable couch on which to repose their 
weary bodies ; the moist earth was their bed, the firmament of 
heaven their covering. Tormented with gnats and musquetoes, 
their nights were sleepless. When morning light returned, their 
cares and watchfulness were resumed, to guard against the danger of 
being surprised by their vigilant, bold, and dexterous enemy. 


ROBERT BENHAM. 

In the autumn of 1779, a number of keel boats were ascending the 
Ohio under the command of Maj. Rodgers, and had advanced as far 
as the mouth of Licking without accident. Here, however, they 
observed a few Indians, standing upon the southern extremity of a 
sandbar, while a canoe, rowed by three others, was in the act of 
putting off from the Kentucky shore, as if for the purpose of taking 
them aboard. Rodgers immediately ordered the boats to be made 
fasten the Kentucky shore, while the crew, to the number of seventy 
men, well armed, cautiously advanced in such a mtnner as to 
encircle the spot where the enemy had been seen to land. Only 
five or six Indians had been seen, and no one dreamed of encounter¬ 
ing more than fifteen or twenty enemies. When Rodgers, however, 
had, as he supposed, completely surrounded the enemy, and was 
preparing to rush upon them, from several quarters at once, he was 
thunderstruck at beholding several hundred savages suddenly spring 
up iu front, rear, and upon both flanks ! They instantly poured in 
33 * 



376 


BENHAM. 


a close discharge of rifles, and then throwing down their guns, fell 
upon the survivors with the tomahawk ! The panic was complete, 
and the slaughter prodigious. Major Rodgers, together with forty 
five others of his men, were quickly destroyed. The survivors 
made an effort to regain their boats, but the five men who had been 
left in charge of them, had immediately put off from shore in the 
hindmost boat, and the enemy had already gained possession of the 
others. Disappointed in the attempt, they turned furiously upon 
the enemy, and aided by the approach of darkness, forced their way 
through their lines, and with the loss of several severely wounded, 
at length effected their escape to Harrodshurgh. 

Among the wounded was Captain Robert Ben ham. Shortly after 
breaking through the enemy’s line, he was shot through both hips, 
and the bones being shattered, he fell to the ground. Fortunately, 
a large tree had lately fallen near the spot where he lay, and with 
great pain, he dragged himself into the top, and lay concealed among 
the branches. The Indians, eager in pursuit of the others, passed 
him without notice, and by midnight all was quiet. On the follow¬ 
ing day, the Indians returned to the battle ground, in order to strip 
the dead and take care of the boats. Benham, although in danger 
of famishing, permitted them to pass without making known his 
condition, very correctly supposing that his crippled legs, would 
only induce them to tomahawk him upon the spot in order to avoid 
the trouble of carrying him to their town. He lay close, therefore, 
until the evening of the second day, when perceiving a raccoon 
descending a tree, near him, he shot it, hoping to devise some means 
of reaching it, when he could kindle a fire and make a meal.— 
Scarcely had his gun cracked, however, when he heard a human cry, 
apparently not more than fifty yards off. Supposing it to be an In¬ 
dian, he hastily reloaded his gun, and remained silent, expecting the 
approach of an enemy. Presently the same voice was heard again, 
but much nearer. Still Benham made no reply, but cocked his gun and 
sat ready to fire as soon as on object appeared. A third halloo was 
quickly heard, followed by and exclamation of impatience and dis¬ 
tress, which convinced Benham that the unknown must be a 
Kentuckian. As soon, therefore, as he heard the expression “ who¬ 
ever you are—for God’s sake answer me !”—he replied with readi¬ 
ness, and the parties were soon together. Benham, as we have 
already observed, was shot through both legs !—the man who now 
appeared, had escaped from the same battle, with both arms broken! 
Thus each was enabled to supply what the other wanted. Benham 
having the perfect use of his arms, could load his gun and kill game, 
with great readiness, while his friend having the use of his legs, 
could kick the game to the spot where Benham sat, who was thus 
enabled to cook it. When no wood was near them, his companion 
would rake up brush with his feet, and gradually roll it within reach 
of Benham’s hands, who constantly fed his companion, and dressed 
his wounds, as well as his own—tearing up both of their shirts for 
that purpose. They found some difficulty in procuring water, at 


BENHAM. 


377 


first—but Benhara at length took his own hat, and placing the rim 
between the teeth of his companion, directed him to wade into the 
Licking, up to his neck, and dip the hat into the water (by sinking 
his own head.) The man who could walk, was tints enabled to 
bring water, by means of his teeth, which Benham could afterwards 
dispose of as was necessary. 

In a few days, they had killed all the squirrels and birds within 
reach, and the man with the broken arms was sent out to drive game 
within gunshot of the spot to which Benham was confined. Fortu¬ 
nately, wild turkeys were abundant in those woods, and his com¬ 
panion would walk around and drive them towards Benham, who 
seldom failed to kill two or three of each flock. In this manner, 
they supported themselves for several weeks, until their wounds had 
healed, so as to enable them to travel. They then shifted their 
quarters, and put up a small shed at the mouth of Licking, where 
they encamped until late in November, anxiously expecting the 
arrival of some boat, which should convey them to the falls of Ohio. 

On the 27th of November, they observed a flat boat moving leisurely 
down the river. Benham hoisted his hat upon a stick and hallooed 
loudly for help. The crew, however, supposing them to be Indians 
—at least suspecting them of an intention to decoy them ashore, paid 
no attention to their signals of distress, but instantly put over to the 
opposite side of the river, and manning every oar, endeavored to pass 
them as rapidly as possible. Benham beheld them pass him with a 
sensation bordering on despair, for the place was much frequented 
by Indians, and the approach of winter threatened them with destruc¬ 
tion, unless speedily relieved. At length, after the boat had passed 
him nearly half a mile, he saw a canoe put off from its stern, and 
cautiously approached the Kentucky shore, evidently reconnoitreing 
them with great suspicion. He called loudly upon them for assist¬ 
ance, mentioned his name and made known his condition. After a 
long parley, and many evidences of reluctance on the part of the 
crew, the canoe at length touched the shore, and Benham and his 
friend were taken on board. Their appearance excited much 
suspicion. They were almost entirely naked, and their faces were 
garnished with six weeks growth of beard. The one was barely 
able to hobble upon crutches, and the other could manage to feed 
himself w r ith one of his hands. They were taken to Louisville, 
where their clothes (which had been carried ofl in the boat which 
deserted them) were restored to them, and after a few weeks cofine- 
ment, both were perfectly restored. 

Benham afterwards served in the northwest throughout the whole 
of the Indian war—accompanied the expeditions of Harmer and 
Wilkinson, shared in the disaster of St. Clair, and afterwards in the 
triumph of Wayne. Upon the return of peace, he bought the land, 
upon which Rodgers had been defeated, and ended his days in 
tranquility, amid the scenes which had witnessed his sufferings. 




378 


m’connel. 


ALEXANDER M’CONNEL. 

Early in the spring of 1780, Mr. Alexander M’Connel, of Lexing¬ 
ton, Ky. went into the woods on foot, to hunt deer. He soon killed 
a large buck, and returned home for a horse, in order to bring it in. 
During his absence, a party of five Indians, on one of their skulking 
expeditions, accidentally stumbled on the body of the deer, and 
perceiving that it had been recently killed, they naturally supposed 
that the hunter would speedily return to secure the flesh. Three of 
them, therefore, took (heir stations within close rifle shot of the deer, 
while the other two followed the trail of the hunter, and waylaid the 
path by which he was expected to return. M’Connel, expecting no 
danger, rode carelessly along the path, which the two scouts were 
watching, until he had come within view of the deer, when he was 
fired upon b) the whole party, and his horse killed. While laboring 
to extricate himself from the dying animal, he was seized by his 
enemies, overpowered, and borne off as a prisoner. IIis captors, 
however, seemed to be a merry, good natured set of fellows, and 
permitted him to accompany them unbound—and what was rather 
extroadinary, allowed him to retain his gun and hunting accoutre¬ 
ments. He accompanied them with great apparent cheerfulness 
through the day, and displayed his dexterity in shooting deer for 
the use of the company, until they began to regard him with great 
partiality. Having travelled with them in this manner for several 
days, they at length reached the banks of the Ohio river. Hereto¬ 
fore, the Indians had taken the precaution to bind him at night, al¬ 
though not very securely ; but on that evening, he remonstrated 
with them on the subject, and complained so strongly of the pain 
which the cords gave him, that they merely wrapped the buffalo tug 
losely around his wrists, and having tied it in a easy knot, and 
attached the extremities of the rope to their own bodies, in order to 
prevent his moving without awakening them, they very composedly 
went to sleep, leaving the prisoner to follow their example or not, 
as he pleased. 

M’Connel determined to effect his escape that night, if possible, 
as on the following morning they would cross the river, which would 
render it more difficult. He, therefore, lay quietly until near mid¬ 
night, anxiously ruminating upon the best means of effecting his 
object. Accidentally casting his eyes in the direction of his feet, 
they fell upon the glittering blade of a knife, which had escaped its 
sheath, and was now lying near the feet of one of the Indians. To 
reach it with his hands, without disturbing the two Indians, to whom 
he was fastened, was impossible, and it was very hazardous to 
attempt to draw it up with his leet. This, however, he attemnted. 
"With much difficulty he grasped the blade between his toes, and after 
repeated and long continued efforts, succeeded at length in bringing it 
within reach of his hands. To cut his cords, was then but the work 
of a moment, and gradually and silently extricating his person from 
the Indians, he walkad to the fire and sat down. He saw that his 


m’afees. 


379 


work was but half done. That if he should attempt to return home, 
without destroying his enemies, he would assuredly be pursued and 
probably overtaken, when his fate would be certain. On the other 
hand, it seemed almost impossible for a single man to succeed in a 
conflict with five Indians, even though unarmed and asleep. He 
could not hope to deal a blow with his knife so silently and fatally, 
as to destroy each one of his enemies in turn, without awakening the 
rest:—Their slumbers were proverbially light and restless—and if 
he failed with a single one, he must inevitably be overpowered bv 
the survivors. The knife, therefore, was out of the question. After 
anxious reflection for a few minutes, he formed his plan. The 
guns of the Indians were stacked near the fire—their knives and 
tomahawks were in sheaths by their sides. The latter he dared not 
touch for fear of awakening their owners—but the former he carefully 
removed, with the exception of two, and hid them in the woods, 
where he knew the Indians would not readily find them. He then 
returned to the spot where the Indians were still sleeping, perfectly 
ignorant of the fate being prepared for them, and taking a gun in 
each hand, he rested the muzzels upon a log within six feet of his 
victims, and having taken deliberate aim at the head of one, and the 
heart of another, he pulled both triggers at the same moment. Both 
shots were fatal. At the report of their guns, the others sprung to 
their feet, and stared wildly around them. M’Connel, who had 
run to the spot where the other rifles were hid, hastily seized one of 
them and fired at two of his enemies, who happened to stand in a 
line with each other. The nearest fell dead, being shot through the 
centre of the body ; the second fell also, bellowing loudly, but 
quickly recovering, limped off into the woods as fast as possible. 
The fifth, and only one who remained unhurt, darted off like a deer, 
with a yell which announced equal terror and astonishment.— 
M’Connel, not wishing to fight any more such battles, selected his 
own rifle from the stack, and made the best of his way to Lexington, 
where he arrived safely within two days. 

Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Dunlap, of Fayette, who had been 
several months a prisoner amongst the Indians on Mad river, made 
her escape, and returned to Lexington. She reported, that the 
survivor returned to his tribe with a lamentable tale. He related 
that they had taken a fine young hunter near Lexington, and had 
brought him safely as far as the Ohio ;—that while encamped upon 
the bank of the river, a large party of white men had fallen upon 
them in the night, and killed all his companions, together with the 
poor defenceless prisoner, who lay bound hand and foot, unable 
either to escape or resist!! 


ROBERT AND SAMUEL M’AFEE. 

Early in May, 1781, M’Afee’s station, in the neighborhood of 
Harrodsburgh, was alarmed. On the morning of the 9th Samuel 



380 


m’afees. 


M’Afee, accompanied by another man, left the fort in order to visit 
a small plantation in the neighborhood, and at the distance of three 
hundred yards from the gate, they were fired upon by a party of 
Indians in ambush. The man who accompanied him instantly fell, 
and M’Afee attempted to regain the fort. While running rapidly for 
that purpose, he found himself suddenly intercepted by an Indian, 
who, springing out of the canebrake, planted himself directly in his 
path. There was no time for compliments. Each glared upon the 
other for an instant in silence, and both raising their guns at the 
same moment, pulled the triggers together. The Indian’s rifle 
snapped, while M’Afee’s ball passed directly through his brain. 
Having no time to reload his gun, he sprung over the body of his 
antagonist, and continued his flight to the fort. When within one 
hundred yards of the gate, he was met by his two brothers, Robert 
and James, who at the report of the guns, had hurried out to the 
assistance of their brother. Samuel hastily informed them of their 
danger, and exhorted them to return. James readily complied, but 
Robert, deaf to all remonstrances, declared that he must have a view 
of the dead Indian. He ran on, for that purpose, and having regaled 
himself with that spectacle, was hastily returning by the same path, 
when he saw five or six Indians between him and the fort, evidently 
bent upon taking him alive. All his activity and presence of mind 
was now put in request. He ran rapidly from tree to tree, endeavor¬ 
ing to turn their flank, and reach one of the gates, and after a variety 
of turns and doublings in the thick wood, he found himself pressed 
by only one Indian. M’Afee, hastily throwing himself behind a 
fence, turned upon his pursuer, and compelled him to take shelter 
behind a tree. Both stood still for a moment—M’Afee having his 
gun cocked, and the sight fixed upon the tree, at the spot where he 
supposed the Indian would thrust out his head in order to have a 
view of his antagonist. After waiting a few seconds he was gratified. 
The Indian slowly and cautiously exposed a part of his head, and 
began to elevate his rifle. As soon as a sufficient mark presented 
itself M’Afee fired, and the Indian fell. While turning, in order to 
continue his flight, he was fired on by a party of six, which com¬ 
pelled him again to tree. But scarcely had he done so, when, from 
the opposite quarter, he received the fire of three more enemies, 
which made the bark fly around him, and knocked up the dust about 
his feet. Thinking his post rather too hot for safety, he neglected 
all shelter and ran directly for the fort, which, in defiance of all oppo¬ 
sition, he reached in safety, to the inexpressible joy of his brothers, 
who had despaired of his return. 

The Indians now opened a heavy fire upon the fort, in their usual 
manner; but finding every effort useless, they hastily decamped, 
without any loss beyond the two who had fallen by the hands of the 
brothers, and without having inflicted any upon the garrison. 
Within half an hour, Major M’Gary brought up a party from Har- 
rodsburgh at full gallop, and uniting with the garrison, pursued the 
enemy with all possible activity. They soon overtook them, and a 


BRYANT AND HOGAN. 


381 


sharp action ensued. The Indians were routed in a few minutes, 
with the loss of six warriors left dead upon the ground, and many 
others wounded, who as usual were borne off. The pursuit was 
continued for several miles, but lrom the thickness of the woods, 
and the extreme activity and address of the enemy, was not very 
effectual. M’Gary lost one man dead upon the spot, and another 
mortally wounded. 


BRYANT AND HOGAN. 

About the same time, Bryant’s station was much harrassed by 
small parties of the enemy. This was a frontier post, and generally 
received the brunt of Indian hostility. It had been settled in 1779, 
by four brothers from North Carolina, one of whom, William, had 
married a sister of Col. Daniel Boone. The Indians were constantly 
lurking in the neighborhood, waylaying the paths, stealing their 
horses and butchering their cattle. It at length became necessary to 
hunt in parties of twenty or thirty men, so as to be able to meet and 
repel those attacks, which were every day becoming more bold and 
frequent. One afternoon, about the 20th of May, William Bryant, 
accompanied by twenty men, left the tort on a hunting expedition 
down the Elkhorn creek. They moved with caution, until they 
had passed all the points where ambuscades had generally been 
formed, when, seeing no enemy, they became more bold, and deter¬ 
mined, in order to sweep a large extent of country, to divide their 
company into two parties. One of them, conducted by Bryant in 
person, was to descend the Elkhorn on its southern bank, flanking 
out largely, and occupying as much ground as possible. The other, 
under the orders of James Hogan, a young farmer in good circum¬ 
stances, was to move down in a parallel line upon the north bank. 
The two parties were to meet at night, and encamp together at the 
mouth of Cane run. Each punctually performed the first part of 
their plans. Hogan, however, had travelled but a few hundred 
yards, when he heard a loud voice behind him exclaim in very good 
English, u stop, boys !” Hastily looking back, they saw several 
Indians on'foot pursuing them as rapidly as possible. Without halt¬ 
ing to count numbers, the party put spurs to their horses, and 
dashed through the woods at full speed, the Indians keeping close 
behind them, and at times gaining upon them. There was a led 
horse in company, which had been brought with them for the pur¬ 
pose of packing game. This was abandoned and fell into the hands 
of the Indians. Several of them lost their hats in the eagerness of 
flight; but quickly getting into the open woods, they left their pur¬ 
suers so far behind, that they had leisure to breathe and enquire of 
each other, whether it was worth while to kill their horses before 
they had ascertained the number of the enemy. They quickly de¬ 
termined to cross the creek, and await the approach of the Indians. 
If they found them superior to their own and Bryant’s party united, 



382 


BRYANT AND HOGAN* 


they would immediately return to the fort—as, by continuing their 
march to the mouth of Cane run, they would bring a superior ene¬ 
my upon their friends and endanger the lives of the whole party.— 
They accordingly crossed the creek, dismounted, and awaited the 
approach of the enemy. By this time it had become dark, the Indi¬ 
ans were distinctly heard approaching the creek upon the opposite 
side, and after a short halt, a solitary warrior descended the bank 
and began to wade through the stream. Hogan waited until they 
had emerged from the gloom of the trees which grew upon the 
bank, and as soon as he had reached the middle of the stream, where 
the light was more distinct, he took deliberate aim and fired. A 
great splashing in the water was heard, but presently all became 
quiet. The pursuit was discontinued, and the party, remounting 
their horses, returned home. Anxious, however, to apprize Bry¬ 
ant’s party of their danger, they left the fort before daylight on the 
ensuing morning, and rode rapidly down the creek, in the direction 
of the mouth of Cane. When within a few hundred yards of the 
spot where they supposed the encampment to be, they heard the 
report of many guns in quick succession. Supposing that Bryant 
had fallen in with a herd of buffalo, they quickened their march in 
order to take part in the sport. The morning was foggy, and the 
smoke of the guns lay so heavily upon the ground that they could 
see nothing until they had approached within twenty yards of the 
creek, when they suddenly found themselves within pistol shot of a 
party of Indians, very composedly seated upon their packs, and pre¬ 
paring their pipes. Both parties were much startled, but quickly 
recovering, they sheltered themselves as usual, and the action 
opened with great vivacity. The Indians maintained their ground 
for half an hour, with some firmness, but being pressed in front, 
and turned in flank, they at length gave way, and being closely 
pursued, were ultimately routed, with considerable loss, which, 
however, could not be distinctly ascertained. Of Hogan’s party, 
one man was killed on the spot, and three others wounded, none 
mortally. 

It happened that Bryant’s company had encamped at the mouth 
of Cane, as had been agreed upon, and were unable to account lor 
Hogan’s absence. That, about day-light, they heard a bell at a 
distance, which they immediately recognized as the one belonging 
to the led horse which had accompanied Hogan’s party, and which, 
as we have seen, had been abandoned to the enemy the evening be¬ 
fore. Supposing their friends to be bewildered in the fog, and un¬ 
able to find their camp, Byrant, accompanied by Grant, one of his 
men, mounted a horse, and rode to the spot where the bell was still 
ringing. They soon fell into an ambuscade, and were fired upon. 
Bryant was mortally, and Grant severely wounded, the first being 
shot through the hip and both knees, the latter through the back. 
Both being able to keep the saddle, however, they set spurs to their 
horses, and arrived at the station shortly after breakfast. The In¬ 
dians, in the meantime, had fallen upon the encampment, and dis- 


POE. 


383 


persed it, and while preparing to regale themselves after their vic¬ 
tory, were suddenly attacked, as we have seen, by Hogan. The 
timidity of Hogan’s party, at the first appearance of the Indians, was 
the cause of the deatli of Bryant. The same men who fled so 
hastily in the evening, were able the next morning, by a little firm¬ 
ness, to vanquish the same party of Indians. Had they stood at 
first, an equal success would probably have attended them, and the 
life of their leader would have been preserved. 


ADAM POE. 

About the middle of July, 1782, seven Wyandotts crossed the 
Ohio a few miles above Wheeling, and committed great depreda¬ 
tions upon the southern shore, killing an old man whom they found 
alone in his cabin, and spreading terror throughout the neighborhood. 
Within a few hours after their retreat, eight men assembled from 
different parts of the small settlement, and pursued the enemy with 
great expedition. Among the most active and efficient of the party, 
were two brothers, Adam and Andrew Poe. Adam was particu¬ 
larly popular. In strength, action, and hardihood, he had no equal 
—being finely formed and inured to all the perils of the woods. 
They had not followed the trail far, before they became satisfied that 
the depredators were conducted by Big Foot, a renowned chief of 
the Wyandott tribe, who derived his name from the immense size of 
his feet. His height considerably exceeded six feet, and his strength 
was represented as Herculean. He had also five brothers, but little 
inferior to himself in size and courage, and as they generally went 
in company, they were the terror of the whole country. Adam Poe 
was overjoyed at the idea of measuring his strength with that of so 
celebrated a chief, and urged the pursuit with a keenness which 
quickly brought him into the vicinity of the enemy. For the last 
few miles, the trail had led them up the southern bank of the Ohio, 
where the footprints in the sand were deep and obvious, but when 
within a few hundred yards of the point at which the whites as well 
as the Indians were in the habit of crossing, it suddenly diverged 
from the stream, and stretched along a rocky ridge, forming an 
obtuse angle with its former direction. Here Adam halted for a 
moment, and directed his brother and the other young men to follow 
the trail with proper caution, while he himself still adhered to the 
river path, which led through clusters of willows directly to the 
point where he supposed the enemy to lie. Having examined t ie 
priming of his gun, he crept cautiously through the bushes, until he 
had a view of the point of embarkation. Here lay two canoes, 
empty and apparently deserted. Being satisfied, however, that the 
Indians were clos, at hand, he relaxed nothing of his vigilance, and 
quickly gained a jutting cliff’, which lu.ng immediately over the 
canoes. Hearing a low murmur below, he peered cautiously over, 
and beheld the object of his search. The gigantic Big Foot, lay 
33 




384 


POE. 


below him in the shade of a willow, and was talking in a low deep 
tone to another warrior, who seemed a mere pigmy by his side. 
Adam cautiously drew back and cocked his gun. The mark was 
fair—the distance did not exceed twenty feet, and his aim was un¬ 
erring. Raising his rifle slowly and cautiously, he took a steady 
aim at Big Foot’s breast, and drew the trigger. His gun flashed. 
Both Indians sprung to their feet with a deep interjection of surprise, 
and for a single second they all three stared upon each other. This 
inactivity, however, was soon over. Adam was too much hampered 
by the bushes to retreat, and setting his life upon a cast of the die, 
he sprung over the bush which had sheltered him, and summoning 
all his powers, leaped boldly down the precipice and alighted upon 
the breast of Big Foot with a shock that bore him to the earth. At 
the moment of contact, Adam had also thrown his right arm around 
the neck of the smaller Indian, so that all three came to the earth 
together. At that moment a sharp firing was heard among the 
bushes above, announcing that the other parties were engaged, but 
the trio below were too busy to attend to any thing but themselves. 
Big Foot was for an instant stunned by the violence of the shock, 
and Adam was enabled to keep them both down. But the exertion 
necessary for that purpose was so great, that he had no leisure to 
use his knife. Big Foot quickly recovered, and without attempting 
to rise, wrapped his long arms round Adam’s body, and pressed him 
to his breast with the crushing force of a Boa Constrictor! Adam, 
as we have already remarked, was a powerful man, and had seldom 
encountered his equal, but never had he yet felt an embrace like that 
of Big Foot. He instantly relaxed his hold of the small Indian, 
who sprung to his feet. Big Foot then ordered him to run for his 
tomahawk, which lay within ten steps, and kill the white man while 
he held him in his arms. Adam, seeing his danger, struggled man¬ 
fully to extricate himself from the folds of the giant, but in vain. 
The lesser Indian approached with his uplifted tomahawk, but x\dam 
watched him closely, and as he was about to strike, gave him a 
kick so sudden and violent, as to knock the tomahawk from his 
hand, and send him staggering* back into the water. Big Foot 
uttered an exclamation in a tone of deep contempt at the failure of 
his companion, and raising his voice to the highest pitch, thundered 
out several words in the Indian tongue, which Adam could not un¬ 
derstand, but supposed to be a direction for a second attack. The 
lesser Indian now again approached, carefully shunning Adam’s 
heels, and making many motions with his tomahawk, in order to 
deceive him as to the point where the blow would fall. This lasted 
for several seconds, until a thundering exclamation from Big Foot, 
compelled his companion to strike. Such was Adam’s dexterity 
and vigilance, however, that he managed to receive the tomahawk in 
a glancing direction upon his left wrist, wounding him deeply, but 
not disabling him. He now made a sudden and desperate effort to 
free himself from the arms of the giant, and succeeded. Instantly 
snatching up a rifle, (for the Indian could not venture to shoot for 


1 



FOl'VS l.EAV 























































































* 






















































POE. 


385 


fear of hurting his companion,) he shot the lesser Indian through the 
body. But scarcely had he done so, when Big Foot arose, and 
placing one hand upon his collar, and the other upon his hip, 
pitched him into the air, as he himself would have pitched a child. 
Adam fell upon his back at the edge of the water, but before his 
antaganist could spring upon him, he was again upon his feet, and 
stung with rage at the idea of being handled so easily, he attacked 
his gigantic antagonist with a fury which for a time compensated for 
inferiority of strength. It was now a fair fist fight between them, 
for in the hurry of the struggle neither had leisure to draw their 
knives. Adam’s superior activity and experience as a pugilist, gave 
him great advantage. The Indian struck awkwardly, and finding 
himself rapidly dropping to the leeward, he closed with his antago¬ 
nist, and again hurled him to the ground. They quickly rolled into 
the river, and the struggle continued with unabated fury, each 
attempting to drown the other. The Indian being unused to such 
violent exertion, and having been much injured by the first shock in 
his stomach, was unable to exert the same powers which had given 
him such a decided superiority at first; and Adam, seizing him by 
the scalp lock, put his head under water and held it there, until the 
faint struggles of the Indian induced him to believe that he was 
drowned, when he relaxed h^s hold and attempted to draw his knife. 
The Indian, however, to use Adam’s own expression, “ had only 
been possuming !” He instantly regained his feet, and in his turn 
put his adversary under. In the struggle, both were carried out 
into the current beyond their depth, and each was compelled to 
relax his hold and swim for his life. There was still one loaded 
rifle upon the shore, and each swam hard in order to reach it, but 
the Indian proved the most expert swimmer, and Adam seeing that 
he should be too late, turned and swam out into the stream, intend¬ 
ing to dive, and thus frustrate his enemy’s intention. At this instant 
Andrew, having heard that his brother was alone in a struggle with 
two Indians, and in great danger, ran up hastily to the edge of the 
bank above, in order to assist him. Another white man followed 
him closely, and seeing Adam in the river, covered with blood, and 
swimming rapidly from shore, mistook him for an Indian and fired 
upon him, wounding him dangerously in the shoulder. Adam 
turned, and seeing his brother, called loudly upon him to “ shoot 
the big Indian upon shore.” Andrew’s gun, however, was empty, 
having just been discharged. Fortunately, Big Foot had also seized 
the gun with which Adam had shot the Indian, so that both were 
upon equality. The contest now was who should load first. Big 
Foot poured in his powder first, and drawing his ramrod out of its 
sheath in too great a hurry, threw it into the river, and while he 
ran to recover it, Andrew gained an advantage. Still the Indian 
was but a second too late, for his gun was at his shoulder, when 
Andrew’s ball entered his breast. The gun dropped from his hands 
and he fell forward upon his face upon the very margin of the river. 
Andrew, now alarmed for his brother, who was scarcely able to 


386 


WOODS. 


swim, threw down his gun and rushed into the river in order to 
bring him ashore—but Adam, more intent upon securing the scalp 
of Big Foot as a trophy, than upon his own safety, called loudly 
upon his brother to leave him alone and scalp the big Indian, who 
was now endeavoring to roll himself into the water, from a romantic 
desire, peculiar to the Indian warrior, of securing his scalp from the 
enemy. Andrew, however, refused to obey, and insisted on saving 
the living, before attending to the dead. Big Foot, in the mean 
time, had succeeded in reaching the deep water before he expired, 
and his body was borne off by the waves, without being stripped of 
the pride and ornament of an Indian warrior. 

Not a man of the Indians had escaped. Five of Big Foot’s 
brothers, the flower of the Wyandott nation, had accompanied him 
in the expedition, and all perished. It is said that the news threw 
the whole tribe into mourning. Their remarkable size, their cour¬ 
age, and their superior intelligence, gave them immense influence, 
which, greatly to their credit, was generally exerted on the side of 
humanity. Their powerful interposition, had saved many prisoners 
from the stake, and given a milder character to the warfare of the 
Indians in that part of the country. Adam Poe recovered of his 
wounds, and lived many years after his memorable conflict; but 
never forgot the tremendous “ hug” which he sustained in the arms 
of Big Foot. 


MRS. WOODS. 

About the middle of the summer of 1792, a gentleman named 
Woods, imprudently removed from the neighborhood of a station, 
and for the benefit of his stock, settled on a lonely heath, near 
Beargrass. One morning, he left his family, consisting of a wile, a 
daughter not yet grown, and a lame negro man, and rode off to the 
nearest station, not expecting to return until night. Mrs. Woods, 
while engaged in her dairy, was alarmed at seeing several Indians 
rapidly approaching the house. She screamed loudly, in order to 
give the alarm, and ran with her utmost speed, in order to reach the 
house before them. In this she succeeded, but had not time to 
close the door until the foremost Indian had forced his w^ay into the 
house. As soon as he entered, the lame negro grappled him and 
attempted to throw him upon the floor, but was himself hurled to 
the ground with violence, the Indian falling upon him. Mrs. Woods 
was too busily engaged in keeping the door closed against the party 
without, to attend to the combatants, but the lame negro, holding the 
Indian in his arms, called to the young girl to cut his head off with 
a very sharp axe which lay under the bed. She attempted to obey, 
but struck with so trembling a hand, that the blow was ineffectual. 
Repeating her efforts under the direction of the negro, however, she 
at length wounded the Indian so badly, that the negro was enabled 
to arise and complete the execution. Elated with success, he then 



DAVIS, CAFFREE AND m’cLURE. 


387 


called to his mistress, and told her to suffer another Indian to enter, 
and they would kill them all one by one. While deliberating upon 
this proposal, however, a sharp firing was heard without, and the 
Indians quickly disappeared. A party of white men had seen them 
at a distance, and having followed them cautiously, had now inter¬ 
posed, at a very critical moment, and rescued a helpless family from 
almost certain destruction. 


DAVIS, CAFFREE AND M’CLURE. 

In the spring of 1784, three young Kentuckians, Davis, Caffree, 
and M’Clure, pursued a party of southern Indians, who had stolen 
horses from Lincoln county, and finding it impossible to overtake 
them, they determined to go on to the nearest Indian settlement, and 
make reprisals—horse stealing being at that time a very fashionable 
amusement, and much practised on both sides. After travelling 
several days, they came within a few miles of an Indian town near 
the Tennessee river, called Chicacaugo. Here they fell in with 
three Indians. Finding themselves equal in point of numbers, the 
two parties made sigus of peace, shook hands and agreed to travel 
together. Each, however, was evidently suspicious of the other. 
The Indians walked upon one side of the road and the whites upon 
the other, watching each other attentively. At length, the Indians 
spoke together in tones so low and earnest, that the whites became 
satisfied of their treacherous intentions, and determined to anticipate 
them. Caffree being a very powerful man, proposed that he him¬ 
self should seize one Indian, while Davis and M’Clure should shoot 
the other two. The plan was a bad one, but was unfortunately 
adopted. Caffree sprung boldly upon the nearest Indian, grasped 
his throat firmly, hurled him to the ground, and drawing a cord 
from his pocket attempted to tie him. At the same instant Davis 
and M’Clure attempted to perform their respective parts. M’Clure 
killed his man, but Davis’ gun missed fire. All three, i. e. the two 
white men, and the Indian at whom Davis had flashed, immediately 
took trees, and prepared for a skirmish, while Caffree remained upon 
the ground with the captured Indian—both exposed to the fire of the 
others. In a few seconds, the savage at whom Davis had flashed, 
shot Caffree as he lay upon the ground and gave him a mortal 
wound—and was instantly shot in turn by M’Clure who had reload¬ 
ed his gun. Caffree becoming very weak, called upon Davis to 
come and assist him in tying the Indian, and directly afterwards 
expired. As Davis was running up to the assistance of his friend— 
the Indian now released by the death of his captor, sprung to his 
feet, and seizing Caffree’s rifle, presented it menacingly at Davis, 
whose gun was not in order for service, and who ran off into the 
forest, closely pursued by the Indian. M’Clure hastily reloaded his 
gun and taking the rifle which Davis had dropped, followed them 
for some distance into the forest, making all signals which had been 
33 * 



388 


MARSHALL. 


concerted between them, in case of separation. All, however, was 
vain—he saw nothing more of Davis, nor could he ever afterwards 
learn his fate. As he never returned to Kentucky, however, he 
probably perished. 

M’Clure, finding himself alone in the enemy’s country, and 
surrounded by dead bodies, thought it prudent to abandon the object 
of the expedition and return to Kentucky. He accordingly retraced 
his steps, still bearing Davis’ rifle in addition to his own. He had 
scarcely marched a mile, before he saw advancing from the opposite 
direction, an Indian warrior, riding a horse with a bell around its 
neck, and accompanied by a boy on foot. Dropping one of the 
rifles, which might have created suspecion, M’Clure advanced with 
an air of confidence, extending his hand and making other signs of 
peace. The opposite party appeared frankly to receive his over¬ 
tures, and dismounting, seated himself upon a log, and drawing out 
his pipe, gave a few puffs himself, and then handed it to M’Clure. 
In a few minutes another bell was heard, at the distance of half a 
mile, and a second party of Indians appeared upon horseback. The 
Indian with M’Clure now coolly informed him by signs that when 
the horsemen arrived, he (M’Clure) was to be bound and carried off’ 
as a prisoner with his feet tied under the horse’s belly. In order to 
explain it more fully, the Indian got astride of the log, and locked 
his legs together underneath it. M’Clure, internally thanking the 
fellow for his excess of candour, determined to disappoint him, and 
while his enemy was busily engaged in riding the log, and mimick¬ 
ing the actions of a prisoner, he very quietly blew his brains out, 
and ran off into the woods. The Indian boy instantly mounted the 
belled horse, and rode off in an opposite direction. M’Clure was 
fiercely pursued by several small Indian dogs, that frequently ran 
between his legs and threw him down. After falling five or six 
times, his eyes became full of dust and he was totally blind. Des¬ 
pairing of escape, he doggedly lay upon his face, expecting every 
instant to feel the edge of the tomahawk. To his astonishment, 
however, no enemy appeared, and even the Indian dogs after tugging 
at him for a few minutes, and completely stripping him of his 
breeches, left him to continue his journey unmolested. Finding 
every thing quiet, in a few moments he arose, and taking up his gun 
continued his march to Kentucky. He reached home in safety, and 
in 1820 was still alive. This communication is from his own lips, 
and may be relied upon as correct. 


COL. THOMAS MARSHALL. 

In the course of the next year many families came down the 
Ohio in boats, landed at Maysville, and continued their route by land 
into such parts of the country as pleased them. Out of a number 
of incidents, which attended the passage of boats down the river, I 
shall select two, as worthy of being mentioned. Col. Thomas 



WARD. 


389 


Marshall, formerly commander of the third Virginia regiment on the 
continental establishment, and subsequently holding the same rank 
in the Virginia artillery, embarked with a numerous family on board 
of a flat bottomed boat, and descended the Ohio without any incident 
worthy of notice, until he had passed the mouth of Kenawha. Here, 
about ten o’clock at night, he was hailed from the nothern shore, by 
a man who spoke good English, and announced himself as James 
Girty, the brother of Simon. The boat dropped slowly down with¬ 
in one hundred and fifty yards ot the shore, and Girty making a 
corresponding movement on the beach, the conference was kept up 
for several minutes. He began by mentioning his name, and enquir¬ 
ing that of the master of the boat. Having been satisfied upon this 
head, he assured him that he knew him well, and respected him 
highly, &c. &c., and concluded with some rather extraordinary re¬ 
marks. “ He had been posted there, he said, by the order of his 
brother Simon, to warn all boats of the danger of permitting them¬ 
selves to be decoyed ashore. The Indians had become jealous of 
him, and he had lost that influence which he formerly had amongst 
them. He deeply regretted the injury which he had inflicted upon 
his countrymen, and wished to be restored to their society. In order 
to convince them of the sincerity of his regard, he had directed him 
to warn all boats of the snares spread for them. Every effort would 
be made to draw passengers ashore. White men would appear on 
the bank—and children would be heard to supplicate for mercy.— 
But, continued he, do you keep the middle of the river, and steel 
your heart against every mournful application which you may re¬ 
ceive.” The Colonel thanked him for his intelligence, and continued 
his course. 

Nothing more was ever heard of Girty’s wish to be restored to 
his station in society ; but his warning, by whatever motive dictated, 
was of service to many families. 


CAPTAIN JAMES WARD. 

About the same time, Captain James Ward, recently a highly 
respectable citizen of Mason county, Ky., was descending the Ohio, 
under circumstances which rendered a rencontre with the Indians 
peculiarly to be dreaded. He, together with half a dozen others, 
one of them his nephew, embarked in a crazy boat, about forty five 
feet long, and eight feet wide, with no other bulwark than a single 
pine plank, above each gunnel. The boat was much encumbered 
with baggage, and seven horses were on board. Having seen no 
enemy for several days, they had become secure and careless, and 
permitted the boat to drift within fifty yards of the Ohio shore.— 
Suddenly, several hundred Indians showed themselves on the bank, 
and running down boldly to the water’s edge, opened a heavy fire 
upon the boat. The astonishment of the crew may be conceived. 
Captain Ward and his nephew were at the oars when the enemy ap- 



390 


WARD. 


peared, and the captain knowing that their safety depended upon 
their ability to regain the middle of the river, kept his seat firmly, 
and exerted his utmost powers at the oar, but Hs nephew started up 
at the sight of the enemy, seized his rifle and was in the act of 
levelling it, when he received a ball in the breast, and fell dead in 
the bottom of the boat. Unfortunately, his oar fall into the river, 
and the Captain, having no one to pull against him, rather urged the 
boat nearer to the hostile shore than otherwise. He quickly seized 
a plank, however, and giving his own oar to another of the crew, he 
took the station which his nephew had held, and unhurt by the 
shower of bullets which flew around him, continued to exert himself, 
until the boat had reached a more respectable distance. He then, 
for the first time, looked around him in order to observe the condi¬ 
tion of the crew. His nephew lay in his blood, perfectly lifeless— 
the horses had been all killed or mortally wounded. Some had fallen 
overboard—others were struggling violently, and causing their frail 
bark to dip water so abundantly, as to excite the most serious appre¬ 
hensions. But the crew presented the most singular spectacle. A 
captain, who had served with reputation in the continental army, 
seemed now totally bereft of his faculties. He lay upon his back in 
the bottom of the boat, with hands uplifted and a countenance in 
which terror was personified, exclaiming in a tone of despair, “ Oh 
Lord ! Oh ! Lord ! ” A Dutchman, whose weight might amount to 
about three hundred pounds, was anxiously engaged in endeavoring 
to find shelter for his bulky person, which, from the lowness of the 
gunnels, was a very difficult undertaking. In spite of his utmost 
efforts, a portion of his posterial luxuriance, appeared above the 
gunnel, and afforded a mark to the enemy, which brought a constant 
shower of balls around it. In vain he shifted his position. The 
hump still appeared, and the balls still flew around it, until the 
Dutchman, loosing all patience, raised his head above the gunnel, 
and in a tone of querulous remonstrance, called out, “ Oh now ! 
quit tat tam nonsense, tere—will you ! ” Not a shot was fired from 
the boat. At one time, after they had partly regained the current, 
Capt. Ward attempted to bring his rifle to bear upon them, but so 
violent was the agitation of the boat, from the furious struggles of 
the horses, that he could not steady his piece within twenty yards of 
the enemy, and quickly laying it aside, returned to the oar. The 
Indians followed them down the river for more than an hour, but 
having no canoes, they did not attempt to board ; and as the boat 
was at length transferred to the opposite side of the river, they at 
length abandoned the pursuit and disappeared. None of the crew, 
save the young man already mentioned, were hurt, although the 
Dutchman’s seat of honor served as a target for the space of an hour, 
and the continental captain was deeply mortified at the sudden, and, 
se he said, “ unaccountable ” panic which had seized him. Captain 
Ward himself was protected by a post, which had been fastened to 
the gunnel, and behind which he sat while rowing. 


DOWNING. 


391 


FRANCIS DOWNING. 

In August, 1786, Mr. Francis Downing, then a lad, was living in a 
fort, where subsequently some iron works were erected by Mr. 
Jacob Myers, which are now known by the name of Slate Creek 
works. About the 16th, a young man belonging to the fort, called 
upon Downing, and requested his assistance in hunting for a horse 
which had strayed away on the preceding evening. Downing readi¬ 
ly complied, and the two friends traversed the woods in every direc¬ 
tion, until at length, towards evening, they found themselves in a wild 
valley, at a distance of six or seven miles from the fort. Here Down¬ 
ing became alarmed, and repeatedly assured his elder companion, 
(whose name was Yates,) that he heard sticks cracking behind them, 
and was confident that Indians were dogging them. Yates, being 
an experienced hunter, and from habit grown indifferent to the dan¬ 
gers of the woods, diverted himself freely at the expense of his 
young companion, often inquiring, at what price he rated his scalp, 
and offering to ensure it for sixpence. Downing, however, was not 
so easily satisfied. He observed, that in whatever direction they 
turned, the same ominous sounds continued to haunt them, and as 
Yates still treated his fears with the most perfect indifference, he 
determined to take his measures upon his own responsibility. 
Gradually slackening his pace, he permitted Yates to advance twenty 
or thirty steps in front of him, and immediately after descending a 
gentle hill, he suddenly sprung aside and hid himself in a thick clus¬ 
ter of whortleberry bushes. Yates, who at that time was performing 
some woodland ditty to the full extent of his lungs, was too much 
pleased with his own voice, to attend either to Downing or the In¬ 
dians, and was quickly out of sight. Scarcely had he disappeared, 
when Downing, to his unspeakable terror, beheld two savages put 
aside the stalks of a canebrake, and looked out cautiously in the di¬ 
rection which Yates had taken. Fearful that they had seen him 
step aside, he determined to fire upon them, and trust to his heels 
for safety, but so unsteady was his hand, that in raising his gun to 
his shoulder, she went off before he had taken aim. He lost no 
time in following her example, and after having run fifty yards, he 
met Yates, who, alarmed at the report, was hastily retracing his 
steps. It was not ncessary to inquire what was the matter. The 
enemy were in full view, pressing forward with great rapidity, and 
“ devil take the hindmost,” was the order of the day. Yates would 
not outstrip Downing, but ran by his side, although in so doing, he 
risked both of their lives. The Indians were well acquainted with 
the country, and soon took a path that diverged from the one which 
the whites followed, at one point and rejoined it at another, bearing 
the same relation to it that the string does to the bow. The two 
paths were at no point distant from each other more than one hun¬ 
dred yards, so that Yates and Downing could easily see the enemy 
gaining rapidly upon them. They reached the point of re-union 
first, however, and quickly came to a deep gulley which it was 


392 


SCRAGGS. 


necessary to cross, or retrace their steps. Yates cleared it without 
difficulty, but Downing, being much exhausted, fell short, falling 
with his breast against the opposite brink, rebounded with violence, 
and fell at full length on the bottom. The Indians crossed the 
ditch a few yards below him and, eager for the capture of Yates, 
continued the pursuit, without appearing to notice Downing. The 
latter, who at first had given himself up for lost, quickly recovered 
his strength, and began to walk slowly along the ditch, fearing to 
leave it lest the enemy should see him. As he advanced, however, 
the ditch became more shallow, until at length it ceased to protect 
him at all. Looking around cautiously, he saw one of the Indians 
returning apparently in quest of him. Unfortunately, he had ne¬ 
glected to reload his gun, while in the ditch, and as the Indian 
instantly advanced upon him, he had no resource but flight. Throw¬ 
ing away his gun, which was now useless, he plied his legs man¬ 
fully, in ascending a long ridge which stretched before him, but the 
Indian gained upon him so rapidly, that he lost all hope of escape. 
Coming at length to a large poplar which had been blown up by the 
roots, he ran along the body of the tree upon one side, while the In¬ 
dian followed it upon the other, doubtless expecting to intercept him at 
the root. But here the supreme dominion of fortune was manifested. 
It happened that a large she bear was sucking her cubs in a bed 
she had made at the root of the tree, and as the Indian reached that 
point first, she instantly sprung upon him, and a prodigious uproar 
took place. The Indian yelled, and stabbed with his knife, the 
bear growled and saluted him with one of her most endearing 
“ hugs —while Downing, fervently wishing her success, ran off 
through the woods, without waiting to see the event of the struggle. 
Downing reached the fort in safety, and found Yates reposing after 
-a hot chase, having eluded his pursuers, and gained the fort two 
hours before him. On the next morning, they collected a party 
and returned to the poplar tree, but no traces either of the Indian or 
bear were to be found. They both probably escaped with their 
lives, although not without injury. 


THE WIDOW SCRAGGS. 

On the night of the 11th of April, 1787, the house of a widow, in 
Bourbon county, became the scene of an adventure, which deserves 
to be related. She occupied what is generally called a double cabin, 
in a lonely part of the county, one room of which was tenanted by 
the old lady herself, together with two grown sons, and a widowed 
daughter, at that time suckling an infant, while the other was 
occupied by two unmarried daughters from sixteen to twenty years 
of age, together with a little girl not more than half grown. The 
hour was 11 o’clock at night. One of the unmarried daughters was 
still busily engaged at the loom, but the other members of the family, 
with the exception of one of the sons, had retired to rest. Some 



SCRAGGS. 


393 


symptoms of an alarming nature had engaged the attention of the 
young man for an hour before any thing of a decided character took 
place. The cry of owls was heard in the adjoining wood, answering 
each other in rather an unusual manner. The horses, which were 
enclosed as usual in a pound near the house, were more than com¬ 
monly excited, and by repeated snorting and galloping, announced 
the presence of some object of terror. The young man was often 
upon the point of awakening his brother, but was as often restrained 
by the fear of incurring ridicule and there proach of timidity, at that 
time an unpardonable blemish in the character of a Kentuckian. At 
length, hasty steps were heard in the yard, and quickly afterwards 
several knocks at the door, accompanied by the usual exclamation, 
“ who keeps house ?” in very good English. The young man, 
supposing from the language, that some benighted settlers were at 
the door, hastily arose and advancing to withdraw the bar which se¬ 
cured it, when his mother, who had long lived upon the frontiers and 
had probably detected the Indian tone in the demand for admission, 
sprung out of bed, and ordered her son not to admit them, declaring 
that they were Indians. She instantly awakened her other son, and 
the two young men seizing their guns, which were always charged, 
prepared to repel the enemy. The Indians finding it impossible to 
enter under their assumed characters, began to thunder at the door with 
great violence, but a single shot from a loophole, compelled them to 
shift the attack to some less exposed point; and, unfortunately, they 
discovered the door of the other cabin, which contained the three 
daughters. The rifles of the brothers could not be brought to bear 
upon this point, and by means of several rails taken from the yard 
fence, the door was forced from its hinges and the three girls were at 
the mercy of the savages. One was immediately secured, but the 
eldest defended herself desperately with a knife which she had been 
using at the loom, and stabbed one of the Indians to the heart, before 
she was tomahawked. In the mean time the little girl, who had 
been overlooked by the enemy in their eagerness to secure the 
others, ran out into the yard, and might have effected her escape 
had she taken advantage of the darkness and fled, but instead of that 
the terrified little creature ran around the house wringing her hands, 
and crying out that her sisters were killed. The brothers, unwilling 
to hear her cries without risking every thing for her rescue, rushed 
to the door and were preparing to sally out to her assistance, when 
their mother threw herself before them and calmly declared that the 
child must be abandoned to its fate—that the sally would sacrifice 
the lives of all the rest without the slightest benefit to the little girl. 
Just then the child uttered a loud scream, followed by a faint moan, 
and all was again silent. Presently the crackling of flames was 
heard, accompanied by a triumphant yell from the Indians, announ¬ 
cing that they had set fire to that division of the house which had 
been occupied by the daughters, and of which they held undisputed 
possession. 

The fire was quickly communicated to the rest of the building, and 


394 


SCRAGGS. 


it became necessary to abandon it or perish in the flames. In the 
one case, there was a possibility that some might escape; in the 
other, their fate would be equally certain and terrible. The rapid 
approach of the flames cut short their momentary suspense. The 
door was thrown open, and the old lady, supported by her eldest son, 
attempted to cross the fence at one point, while her daughter carry¬ 
ing her child in her arms, and attended by the younger of the brothers, 
ran in a different direction. The blazing roof shed a light over the 
yard but little inferior to that of day, and the savages were distinctly 
seen awaiting the approach of their victims. The old lady was 
permitted to reach the stile unmolested, but in the act of crossing, 
received several balls in her breast and fell dead. Her son, provi¬ 
dentially, remained unhurt, and by extrordinary agility, effected his 
escape. The other party succeeded also in reaching the fence unhurt, 
but in the act of crossing, were vigorously assailed by several Indians, 
who throwing down their guns, rushed upon them with their toma¬ 
hawks. The young man defended his sister gallantly, firing upon 
the enemy as they approached, and then wielding the butt of his rifle 
with a fury that drew their whole attention upon himself, and gave 
his sister an opportunity of effecting her escape. He quickly fell, 
however, under the tomahawk of his enemies, and was found at 
daylight, scalped and mangled in a shocking manner. Of the whole 
family, consisting of eight persons, when the attack commenced, 
only three escaped. Four were killed upon the spot, and one (the 
second daughter) carried off as a prisoner. 

The neighborhood was quickly alarmed, and by daylight about 
thirty men were assembled under the command of Col. Edwards. 
A light snow had fallen during the latter part of the night, and the 
Indian trail could be pursued at a gallop. It led directly into the 
mountainous country bordering on Licking, and afforded evidences 
of great hurry and precipitation on the part of the fugitives. Unfor¬ 
tunately, a hound had been permitted to accompany the whites, and 
as the trail became fresh and the scent warm, she followed it with 
eagerness, baying loudly and giving the alarm to the Indians. The 
consequences of this imprudence were soon displayed. The enemy 
finding the pursuit keen, and perceiving that the strength of the 
prisoner began to fail, sunk their tomahawks in her head and left her, 
still warm and bleeding upon the snow. As the whites came up, 
she retained strength enough to wave her hand in token of recogni¬ 
tion, and appeared desirous of giving them some information, with 
regard to the enemy, but her strength was too far gone. Her brother 
sprung from his horse and knelt by her side, endeavoring to stop 
the effusion of blood, but in vain. She gave him her hand, mutter¬ 
ed some inarticulate words, and expired within two minutes after the 
arrival of the party. The pursuit was renewed with additional ardor, 
and in tw enty minutes the enemy was within view. They had taken 
possession of a steep narrow ridge and seemed desirous of magnify¬ 
ing their numbers in the eyes of the whites, as they ran rapidly from 
tree to tree, and maintained a steady yell in their most appalling 


INCIDENTS. 


395 


tones. The pursuers, however, were too experienced to be deceived 
by so common an artifice, and being satisfied that the number of the 
enemy must be inferior to their own, they dismounted, tied their 
horses, and flanking out in such a manner as to enclose the enemy, 
ascended the ridge as rapidly as was consistent with a due regard to 
the shelter of their persons. The firing quickly commenced, and 
now for the first time they discovered that only two Indians were 
opposed to them. They had voluntarily sacrificed themselves for 
the safety of the main body, and had succeeded in delaying pursuit 
until their friends could reach the mountains. One of them was 
shot dead, and the other was badly wounded, as was evident from 
the blood upon his blanket, as well as that which filled his tracks in 
the snow for a considerable distance. The pursuit was recom¬ 
menced, and urged keenly until night, when the trail entered a run¬ 
ning stream and was lost. On the following morning the snow had 
melted, and every trace of the enemy was obliterated. This affair 
must be regarded as highly honorable to the skill, address, and acti¬ 
vity of the Indians, and the self devotion of the rear guard, is a 
lively instance of that magnanimity of which they are at times capa¬ 
ble, and which is more remarkable in them, from the extreme caution 
and tender regard for their own lives, which usually distinguishes 
their warriors. 


INCIDENTS ATTENDING THE DESERTION OF A YOUNG WHITE MAN 
FROM A PARTY OF INDIANS. 

A few weeks after this melancholy affair, a very remarkable inci¬ 
dent occurred in the same neighborhood. One morning, about sun 
rise, a young man of wild and savage appearance, suddenly arose 
from a cluster of bushes in front of a cabin, and hailed the house, in 
a barbarous dialect, which seemed neither exactly Indian nor Eng¬ 
lish, but a collection of shreds and patches from which the graces of 
both were carefully excluded. His skin had evidently once been 
white—although now grievously tanned by constant exposure to the 
weather. His dress in every respect was that of an Indian, as were 
his gestures, tones and equipments, and his age could not be sup¬ 
posed to exceed twenty years. He talked volubly, but uncouthly, 
placed his hand upon his breast, gestured vehemently, and seemed 
very earnestly bent upon communicating something. He was invi¬ 
ted to enter the cabin, and the neighbors quickly collected around 
him. He appeared involuntarily to shrink from contact with them 
—his eyes rolled rapidly around with a distrustful expression 
from one to the other, and his whole manner was that of a wild 
animal, just caught, and shrinking from the touch of its captors.— 
As several present understood the Indian tongue, they at length 
gathered the following circumstances, as accurately as they could be 
translated, out of a language which seemed to be an “ omnium gath¬ 
erum ” of all that was mongrel, uncouth and barbarous. He said 
31 



396 


INCIDENTS. 


that he had been taken by the Indians, when a child, but could 
neither recollect his name, nor the country of his birth.—That he 
had been adopted by an Indian warrior, who brought him up with 
his other sons, without making the slightest difference between them, 
and that under his father’s roof, he had lived happily until within 
the last month. A few weeks before that time, his father, accompa¬ 
nied by himself and a younger brother, had hunted for some time 
upon the waters of the Miami, about forty miles from the spot 
where Cincinnati now stands, and after all their meat, skins, &c., 
had been properly secured, the old man determined to gratify his 
children by taking them upon a war expedition to Kentucky. They 
accordingly built a bark canoe, in which they crossed the Ohio near 
the mouth of Licking, and having buried it, so as to secure it from 
the action of the sun, they advanced into the country and encamped 
at the distance of fifteen miles from the river. Here their father was 
alarmed by hearing an owl cry in a peculiar tone, which he declared 
boded death or captivity to themselves, if they continued their expe¬ 
dition—and announced his intention of returning without delay to 
the river. Both of his sons vehemently opposed this resolution, 
and at length prevailed upon the old man to disregard the owl’s 
warning, and conduct them, as he had promised, against the fron¬ 
tiers of Kentucky. The party then composed themselves to sleep, 
but were quickly awakened by the father, who had again been 
warned in a dream that death awaited them in Kentucky, and again 
besought his children to release him from his promise and loose no 
time in returning home. Again they prevailed upon him to disregard 
the warning, and persevere in the march. He consented to gratify 
them, but declared he would not remain a moment longer in the 
camp which they now occupied, and accordingly they left it imme¬ 
diately, and marched on through the night, directihg their course 
towards Bourbon county. In the evening they approached a house, 
that which he hailed and in which he was now speaking. Suddenly 
the desire of rejoining his people occupied his mind so strongly as 
to exclude every other idea, and seizing the first favorable opportu¬ 
nity, he had concealed himself in the bushes, and neglected to reply 
to all the signals which had been concerted for the purpose of col¬ 
lecting their party when scattered. This account appeared so 
extraordinary, and the young man’s appearance was so wild and 
suspicious, that many of the neighbors suspected him of treachery, 
and thought that he should be arrested as a spy. Others opposed 
this resolution and gave full credit to his narrative. In order to 
satisfy themselves, however, they insisted upon his instantly con¬ 
ducting them to the spot where the canoe had been buried. To this 
the young man objected most vehemently, declaring that although 
he had deserted his father and brother, yet he would not betray 
them. These feelings were too delicate to meet with much sympa¬ 
thy from the rude borderers who surrounded him, and he was given 
to understand that nothing short of conducting them to the point of 
embarcation, would be accepted as an evidence of his sincerity.— 


INCIDENTS. 


397 


With obvious reluctance he at length complied. From twenty to 
thirty men were quickly assembled, mounted upon good horses, and 
under the guidance of the deserter, they moved rapidly towards the 
mouth of Licking. On the road the young man informed them that 
he would first conduct them to the spot, where they had encamped 
when the scream of the owl alarmed his lather, and where an iron 
kettle had been left concealed in a hollow tree. He was probably 
induced to do this from the hope of delaying the pursuit so long as 
to afford his friends an opportunity of crossing the river in safety. 
But if such was his intention, no measure could have been more 
unfortunate. The whites approached the encampment in deep 
silence, and quickly perceived two Indians, an old man and a boy, 
seated by the fire and busily employed in cooking some venison.— 
The deserter became much agitated at the sight of them, and so ear¬ 
nestly implored his countrymen not to kill them, that it was agreed 
to surround the encampment, and endeavor to secure them as prison¬ 
ers. This was accordingly attempted, but so desperate was the 
resistance of the Indians, and so determined were their efforts to 
escape, that the whites were compelled to fire upon them, and the 
old man fell mortally wounded, while the boy, by an incredible dis¬ 
play of address and activity, was enabled to escape. The deserter 
beheld his father fall, and throwing himself from his horse, he ran 
up to the spot where the old man lay bleeding but still sensible, and 
falling upon his body, besought his forgiveness for being the unwil¬ 
ling cause of his death, and wept bitterly. His father evidently 
recognized him, and gave him his hand, but almost instantly after¬ 
wards expired. The white men now called upon him to conduct 
them at a gallop to the spot where the canoe was buried, expecting 
to reach it before the Indian boy and intercept him. The deserter 
in vain implored them to compassionate his feelings. He urged 
that he had already sufficiently demonstrated the truth of his former 
assertions, at the expense of his father’s life, and earnestly entreated 
them to permit his younger brother to escape. His companions, 
however, were inexorable. Nothing but the blood of the young 
Indian would satisfy them, and the deserter was again compelled to 
act as a guide. Within two hours they reached the designated spot. 
The canoe was still there, and no track could be seen upon the sand, 
so that it was evident that their victim had not yet arrived. Hastily 
dismounting, they tied their horses and concealed themshlves within 
close rifle shot of the canoe. Within ten minutes after their arrival 
the Indian appeared in sight, walking swiftly towards them. He 
went straight to the spot where the canoe had been buried, and was 
in the act of digging it up, when he received a dozen balls through 
his body, and leaping high into the air fell dead upon the sand. He 
was scalped and buried where he fell, without having seen his bro¬ 
ther, and probably without having known the treachery by which 
he and his father had lost their lives. The deserter remained but a 
short time in Bourbon, and never regained his tranquility of mind. 


398 


MERRIL. 


He shortly afterwards disappeared, but whether to seek his relations 
in Virginia or Pennsylvania, or whether disgusted by the ferocity of 
the whites, he returned to the Indians, has never yet been known. 
He was never heard of afterwards. 


ADVENTURES OF JOHN MERRIL. 

During the summer, the house of Mr. John Merril, of Nelson 
county, Kentucky, was attacked by the Indians, and defended with 
singular address and good fortune. Merril was alarmed by the 
barking of a dog about midnight, and upon opening the door in order 
to ascertain ihe cause of the disturbance, he received the fire of six 
or seven Indians, by which his arm and thigh were both broken. 
He sank upon the floor and called upon his wife to shut the door. 
This had scarcely been done, when it was violently assailed by the 
tomahawks of the enemy, and a large breach soon effected. Mrs. 
Merril, however, being a perfect Amazon both in strength and cou¬ 
rage, guarded it with an axe, and successively killed or badly wounded 
four of the enemy as they attempted to force their way into the 
cabin. The Indians then ascended the roof and attempted to enter 
by way of the chimney, but here, again, they were met by the same 
determined enemy. Mrs. Merril seized the only feather-bed which 
the cabin afforded, and hastily ripping it open, poured its contents 
upon the fire. A furious blaze and stifling smoke ascended the 
chimney, and quickly brought down two of the enemy, who lay for 
a few moments at the mercy of the lady. Seizing the axe, she 
despatched them, and was instantly afterwards summoned to the 
door, where the only remaining savage now appeared, endeavoring 
to effect an entrance, while Mrs. Merril was engaged at the chimney. 
He soon received a gash in the cheek, which compelled him with a 
loud yell to relinquish his purpose, and return hastily to Chillicothe, 
where, from the report of a prisoner, he gave an exaggerated 
account of the fierceness, strength and courage of the “ long knife 
squaw ! ” 


WARD, CALVIN AND KENTON. 

In the month of April, 1792, a number of horses belonging to 
Capt. Luther Calvin, of Mason county, were stolen by the Indians; 
and, as usual, a strong party volunteered to go in pursuit of the 
enemy and recover the property. The party consisted of thirty- 
seven men, commanded by Captains Calvin and Kenton, and was 
composed chiefly of young farmers, most of whom had never yet 
met an enemy. They rendezvoused upon the Kentucky shore, 
immediately opposite Ripley, and crossing the river in a small ferry 
boat, pursued the trail for five or six miles with great energy.— 
Here, however, a specimen of the usual caprice and uncertainty 




WARD, CALVIN AND KENTON. 


399 


attending the motions of militia, was given. One of the party, 
whose voice had been loud and resolute while on the Kentucky 
shore, all at once managed to discover that the enterprisers rash, 
ill advised, and if prosecuted, would certainly prove di ,'st^ls. A 
keen debate ensued, in which young Spencer Calvin, t^|Hrlad of 
eighteen, openly accused the gentleman alluded to of cowaraice, and 
even threatened to take the measure of his shoulders with a ramrod, 
on the spot. By the prompt interference of Kenton and the elder 
Calvin, the young man’s wrath was appeased for the time, and all 
those who preferred safety to honor, were invited instantly to return. 
The permission was promptly accepted, and no less than fifteen men, 
headed by the recreant already mentioned, turned their horses’ heads 

ting chiefly of expe- 


ler^or^; 

'•JHP 

ami, s: 
Sf in 

tffl|KJuick 


about noon, on the 
arently from a horse 
uickly beheld a solitary 


and recrossed the river. The remainder, 
rienced warriors, continued the pursuit. 

The trail led them down on the Ml 
second day, they heard a bell in fro* 
grazing. Cautiously approaching it, tl 
Indian, mounted on horseback, and leisurely advancing towards 
them. A few of their best marksmen fired upon him and brought 
him to the ground. After a short consultation, it was then deter¬ 
mined to follow his back trail, and ascertain whether there were 
more in the neighborhood. A small, active, resolute woodsman, 
named McIntyre, accompanied by three others, was pushed on in 
advance, in order to give them early notice of the enemy’s appear¬ 
ance, while the main body followed at a more leisurely pace.— 
Within an hour, McIntyre returned, and reported that they were 
then within a short distance of a large party of Indians, supposed to 
be greatly superior to their own. That they were encamped in a 
bottom upon the borders of a creek, and were amusing themselves, 
apparently awaiting the arrival of the Indian whom they had just 
killed, as they would occasionally halloo loudly, and then laugh 
immoderately, supposing, probably, that their comrade had lost his 
way. This intelligence fell like a shower-bath upon the spirits of 
the party, who, thinking it more prudent to put a greater interval 
between themselves and the enemy, set spurs to their horses and 
gallopped back in the direction from which they had come. Such 
was the panic, that one of the footmen, a huge hulking fellow, six 
feet high, in his zeal for his own safety, sprung up behind Captain 
Calvin, (who was then mounted upon Captain Ward’s horse, the 
Captain having dismounted in order to accommodate him,) and no¬ 
thing short of a threat to blow his brains out, could induce him to 
dismount. In this orderly manner they scampered through the 
woods for several miles, when, in obedience to the orders of Kenton 
and Calvin, they halted, and prepared for resistance in case (as was 
probable) the enemy had discovered them, and were engaged in the 
pursuit. Kenton and Calvin were engaged apart in earnest consul¬ 
tation. It was proposed that a number of saplings should be cut 
down and a temporary breast-work erected, and while the propriety 
34* 


400 


WARD, CALVIN AND KENTON. 


of these measures were under discussion, the men were left to 
themse lves. 

Caj^BjVard, as we have already observed, was then very 
young! and\perfectly raw. He had been in the habit of looking up 
to one®P^as a perfect Hector, having always heard him represen¬ 
ted in his own neighborhood as a man of redoubted courage, and a 
perfect Anthropophagus among the Indians. When they halted, 
therefore, he naturally looked around for his friend, hoping to read 
safety, courage, and assurance of success in that countenance, usually 
so ruddy and confident. But, alas ! the gallant warrior was wo- 
fully chop-fallen. There had generally been a ruddy tinge upon the 
tip of his nose, which some ascribed to the effervescence of a fiery 
valour, while other^mm^maliciously inclined, attributed it to the 
fumes of brandy. Even tlis burning beacon had been quenched, 
and had assumed a livqf, as.hK hue, still deeper, if possible, than that 
of his lips. Captain V^^Kninking that the danger must be appal¬ 
ling, which could damj^me ardor of a man like-, became 

grievously frightened himself, and the contagion seemed spreading 
rapidly, when Kenton arid Calvin rejoined them, and speaking in a 
cheerful, confident tone, completely reanimated their spirits. 

Finding themselves not pursued by the enemy, as they had ex¬ 
pected, it was determined that they should remain in their present 
position until night, when a rapid attack was to be made in two 
divisions, upon the Indian camp, under the impression that the 
darkness of the night, and the surprize of the enemy, might give 
them an advantage, which they could scarcely hope for in daylight. 
Accordingly, every thing remaining quiet at dusk, they again mount¬ 
ed and advanced rapidly, but in profound silence, upon the Indian 
camp. It was ascertained that the horses which the enemy had 
stolen, were grazing in a rich bottom below their camp. As they 
were advancing to the attack, therefore, Calvin detached his son 
with several halters, which he had borrowed from the men, to regain 
their own horses, and be prepared to carry them off in case the ene¬ 
my should overpower them. The attack was then made in two 
divisions. Calvin conducted the upper and Kenton the lower party. 
The wood was thick, but the moon shone out clearly, and enabled 
them to distinguish objects with sufficient precision. Calvin’s party 
came first in contact with the enemy. They had advanced within 
thirty yards of a large fire in front of a number of tents, without 
having seen a single Indian, when a dog which had been watching 
them for several minutes, sprung forward to meet them, baying 
loudly, Presently an Indian appeared, approaching cautiously 
towards them, and occasionally speaking to the dog in the Indian 
tongue. This sight was too tempting to be borne, and Calvin heard 
the tick of a dozen rifles in rapid succession, as his party cocked 
them in order to fire. The Indian was too close to permit him to 
speak, but turning to his men he earnestly waved his hand as a 
warning to be quiet. Then cautiously raising his own rifle, he fired 
with a steady aim just as the Indian had reached the fire, and stood 



WARD, CALVIN AND KENTON. 


401 


fairly exposed to its light. The report of the rifle broke the still¬ 
ness of the night, and their ears were soon deafened by the yells of 
the enemy. The Indian at whom Calvin had fired, fell forward 
into the burning pile of faggots, and by his struggling tdlbxtricate 
himself, scattered the brands so much, as almost to extinguish the 
light. Several dusky forms, glanced rapidly before them for a mo¬ 
ment, which drew a volley from his men, but with what effect could 
not be Ascertained. Calvin, having discharged his piece, turned so 
rapidly as to strike the end of his ramrod against a tree behind him, 
and drive it into its sheath with such violence, that he was unable 
to extricate it for several minutes, and finally fractured two of his 
teeth in the effort. 

A heavy fire now commenced from the Indian camp, which was 
returned with equal spirit by the white^^it without much effect on 
either side. Trees were barked very qffntifully, dogs bayed, the 
Indians yelled, the whites shouted, the squaws screamed, and a 
prodigious uproar was maintained for about fifteen minutes, when it 
was reported to Calvin that Kenton’s party had been overpowered, 
and was in full retreat. It was not necessary to give orders for a 
similar movement. No sooner had the intelligence been received, 
than the Kentuckians of the upper division broke their ranks and 
every man attempted to save himself as he best could. They soon 
overtook the lower division, and a hot scramble took place for 
horses. One called upon another to wait for him until he could 
catch his horse, which had brokn his bridle, but no attention was 
paid to the request. Some fled upon their own horses, others 
mounted those of their friends. “ First come, first served,” seemed 
to be the order of the night, and a sad confusion of property took 
place, in consequence of which, to their great terror, a few were com¬ 
pelled to return on foot. The flight was originially caused by the 
panic of an individual. As the lower division moved up to the 
attack, most of the men appeared to advance with alacrity. 

Captain Ward, however, happened to be stationed next toM’Intyre, 
who was a practised woodsman and peculiarly expert marksman. 
Heretofore, he had always been foremost in every danger, and had 
become celebrated for the address, activity, and boldness with which 
he had acquitted himself. As they were ascending the gentle acclivity 
upon which the Indian camp stood, however, he appeared much 
dejected, and spoke despondingly of their enterprize. He declared 
that it had been revealed to him in a dream, on the preceding night, 
that their efforts would be vain, and that he himself was destined to 
perish. That he was determined to fight, as long as any man of the 
party stood his ground, but if the whites were wise, they would 
instantly abandon the attempt upon the enemy, and recross the Ohio, 
as rapidly as possible. These observations made but little impres¬ 
sion upon Ward, but seemed to take deep root in the mind of the 
gentleman whose pale face had alarmed the company at the breast¬ 
work. The action quickly commenced, and at the first fire from 
the Indians, Barre, a young Kentuckian, was shot by-’s side. 


402 


WARD, BAKER AND KENTON. 


This circumstance completed the overthrow of his courage, which 
had declined visibly since the first encounter in the morning, and 
elevating his voice to its shrillest notes, he shouted aloud, “ Boys ! 
it wont fo for us to be here—Barre is killed, and the Indians are 
crossing" the creek!” Bonaparte has said, that there is a critical 
period in every battle, when the bravest men will eagerly seize an 
excuse to run away. The remark is doubly true with regard to 
militia. No sooner had this speech been uttered by one who had 
never yet been charged with cowardice, than the rout instantly took 
place and all order was disregarded. Fortunately, the enemy were 
equally frightened, and probably would have fled themselves, had 
the whites given them time. No pursuit took place for several 
hours, nor did they then pursue the trail of the main body of fugi¬ 
tives. But it unfortunaj^ happened that M’lntyre, instead of 
accompanying the rest, tiflPd off from the main route, and returned 
to the breastwork where some flour and venison had been left. The 
Indians quicly became aware of the circumstance, and following 
with rapidity, overtook, tomahawked, and scalped him, while 
engaged in preparing breakfast on the following morning. Thus 
was his dream verified. The prediction in this case as in many 
others, probably produced its own accomplishment by confounding 
his mind, and depriving him of his ordinary alertness and intelligence. 
He certainly provoked his fate, by his own extraordinary rashness. 

Note. —It is somewhat remarkable, that a brother of Captain 
'Ward’s was in the Indian camp at the moment when it was attacked. 
He had been taken by the Indians in 1758, being at that time only 
three years old, had been adopted as a member of the Shawanee 
tribe and had married an Indian woman by whom he had several 
children, all of whom, together with their mother, were then in camp. 
Captain Ward has informed the writer of this narrative, that, a few 
seconds before the firing began, while he stood within rifle shot of 
the encampment, an Indian girl apparently fifteen years of age 
attracted his attention. She stood for an instant, in an attitude of 
alarm, in front of one of the tents, and gazed intently upon the spot 
where he stood. Not immediately perceiving that it was a female, 
he raised his gun, and was upon the point of firing, when her open 
bosom announced her sex, and her peculiarly light complexion caused 
him to doubt for a moment whether she could be an Indian by birth. 
He afterwards ascertained that she was his brother’s child. 


WARD, BAKER AND KENTON. 

It appears still more remarkable, that exactly one year afterwards, 
John Ward, the adopted Indian, should have been opposed to an¬ 
other one of his brothers, Capt. James Ward, of Mason, in a night 
skirmish somewhat resembling that which we have just detailed. 
Capt. James Ward, together with Kenton, Baker and about thirty 



MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


403 


others, while engaged in pursuit of some stolen horses, fell upon a 
fresh trail of Indians, that crossed the road which they were then 
pursuing. Instantly abandoning their former object, they followed 
the fresh trail with great eagerness, and a short time after dark^arrived 
at an encampment. Having carefully reconnoitered it, they deter¬ 
mined to remain quiet until daylight, and then fall upon the enemy 
as before, in two divisions, one to be commanded by Kenton and the 
other by Baker. Every thing remained quiet until four o’clock in 
the morning, when Baker moved at the head of his party, in order 
to take the appointed position, (which was very advantageous, and 
in conjunction with Kenton’s, completely surrounded the enemy,) 
while Kenton remained stationary, awaiting the signal of attack. 
By some mistake, Baker moved in a false direction, and, to the 
surprize of both parties, instead of enclosing the Indian camp, he 
fell directly upon it. A heavy firing, and the usual yelling, quickly 
announced the fact to Kenton, who moved hastily up to the assist¬ 
ance of his friends. It was still perfectly dark and the firing was of 
course at random. Baker, in whose fiery character, courage predom¬ 
inated over every thing else, lost all patience at the restraint under 
which they lay, and urged strenuously, that they should rush upon 
the enemy, and decide the affair at once with the tomahawk ; but 
Kenton, whom repeated misfortunes had rendered extremely cautious, 
opposed it so vehemently, that it was not done. One of their men 
had fallen, and they could hear one of the enemy, apparently not 
more than thirty yards from them, groan deeply, and occasionally 
converse with his companions in the Indian tongue. The wounded 
man was the unfortunate John Ward, whose hard fate it was, to 
fight against the whites in a battle in which his own father was 
killed, to encounter two of his brothers in the field, and finally to 
fall mortally wounded in a night skirmish, when his brother was 
opposed to him, and was within hearing of his groans. His father 
perished in the long battle at the “ Point,” as it was called, near the 
mouth of the Kenawha. The whole force of the Shawanees was 
assembled at that point, and John Ward was then nineteen years of 
age, so that there can be but little doubt of his having been present. 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 

Mr. John May, a gentleman of Virginia, had, at an early period, 
been appointed surveyor of the Kentucky lands, and had become so 
extensively involved in business, as to require the aid of a clerk. In 
1789, he employed Mr. Charles Johnston, a young man scarcely 
twenty years of age, in that capacity. Johnston accompanied his 
employer to Kentucky in the summer ol ’89, and returned to Vir¬ 
ginia in the autumn of the same year, without any adventure worthy 
of notice ; and in the month of Februry, 1790, it became necessary 
for them to return to Kentucky, in order to complete the business 
which had been left unfinished on the former trip. Heretofore, they 



404 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


had travelled by land, but on the present occasion, May determined 
to descend the Great Kenawha and Ohio by water. They, accord¬ 
ingly, travelled by the usual route to Green Briar court house, where 
the town of Lewisburgh has since been built, and from thence crossed 
the wildernes which lay between that point and the Great Kenawha. 
After suffering much from the weather, which was intensely cold, 
they at length reached Kelly’s station upon the Kenawha, from 
which point May proposed to embark. Having purchsed a boat, 
such as was then used for the navigation of the western waters, they 
embarked in company with Mr. Jacob Skyles, a gentleman of Vir¬ 
ginia, who had at that time a stock of drygoods intended for Lexing¬ 
ton, and without any aocident, in the course of a few days, they 
arrived at Point Pleasant. Here there was an accession to their 
number of three persons, a man named Flinn and two sisters of the 
name of Fleming. Flinn was a hardy borderer, accustomed from his 
youth to all the dangers of the frontiers, and the two Miss Flemings 
were women of low station. They were all natives of Pittsburg 
and were on their way to Kentucky. 

During their short stay at Point Pleasant, they learned that roving 
bands of Indians were constantly hovering upon either bank of the 
Ohio, and were in the habit of decoying boats ashore under various 
pretences, and murdering or taking captives, all who were on board ; 
so that, upon leaving Point Pleasant, they determined that no con¬ 
siderations should induce them to approach either shore, but steeling 
their hearts against every entreaty, that they would resolutely keep 
the middle of the current, and leave distressed individuals to shift 
for themselves. How firmly this resolution was maintained the 
sequel will show. The spring freshet was in its height at the time 
of their embarcation, and their boat was wafted rapidly down the 
stream. There was no occasion to use the side oars, and it was only 
necessary for one individual at a time to watch throughout the night, 
at the steering oar, in order to keep the boat in the current. So long 
as this could be done, they entertained no dread of any number of 
Indians on either shore, as boarding had hitherto formed no part of 
their plans, and was supposed to be impracticable, so long as arms 
were on board of the boat. 

On the morning of the 20th of March, when near the junction of 
the Scioto, they were awakened at daylight by Flinn, whose turn it 
was to watch, and informed that danger was at hand. All sprung to 
their feet, and hastened upon deck without removing their night-caps 
or completing their dress. The cause of Flinn’s alarm was quickly 
evident. Far down the river a smoke was seen, ascending in thick 
wreaths above the trees, and floating in thinner masses over the bed 
of the river. All at once perceived that it could only proceed from a 
large fire—and who was there to kindle a fire in the wilderness which 
surrounded them ? No one doubted that Indians were in front, and the 
only question to be decided was, upon which shore they lay, for the 
winding of the river, and their distance from the smoke, rendered it 
impossible at first to ascertain this point. As the boat drifted on, 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FL1NN AND SKYLES. 


405 


however, it became evident that the fire was upon the Ohio shore, 
and it was determined to put over to the opposite side of the river. 
Before this could be done, however, two white men ran down upon 
the beach, and clasping their hands iri the most earnest manner, 
implored the crew to take them on board. They declared that they 
had been taken by a party of Indians in Kennedy’s bottom, a few 
days before—had been conducted across the Ohio, and had just 
effected their escape. They added, that the enemy was in close 
pursuit of them, and that their death was certain, unless admitted on 
board. Resolute in their purpose, on no account to leave the middle 
of the stream, and strongly suspecting the suppliants of treachery, the 
party paid no attention to their entreaties, but steadily pursued their 
course down the river, and were soon considerably ahead of them. 
The two white men ran down the bank, in a line parallel with the 
course of the boat, and their entreaties were changed into the most 
piercing cries and lamentations upon perceiving the obstinacy with 
which their request was disregarded. The obduracy of the crew 
soon began to relax. Flinn and the two females, accustomed from 
their youth to undervalue danger from the Indians, earnestly insisted 
upon going ashore, and relieving the white men, and even the 
incredulity of May began to yield to the persevering importunity of 
the suppliants. A parley took place.—May called to them from the 
deck of the boat where he stood in his night-cap and drawers, and 
demanded the cause of the large fire the smoke of which had caused 
so much alarm. The white men positively denied that there was 
any fire near them. This falsehood was so palpable, that May’s 
former suspicion returned with additional force, and he positively 
insisted upon continuing their course without paying the slightest 
attention to the request of the men. This resolution was firmly 
seconded by Johnston and Skyles, and as vehemently opposed by 
Flinn and the Miss Flemings, for, contrary to all established rules of 
policy, the females were allowed an equal vote with the males on 
board of the boat. Flinn urged that the men gave every evidence of 
real distress which could be required, and recounted too many par¬ 
ticular circumstances attending their capture and escape, to give color 
to the suspicion that their story was invented for the occasion, and 
added, that it would be a burning shame to them and their’s forever, 
if they should permit two countrymen to fall a sacrifice to the savages 
when so slight a risk on their part would suffice to relieve them. 
He aknowledged that they had lied in relation to the fire, but declar¬ 
ed himself satisfied that it was only because they were fearful of 
acknowledging the truth, lest the crew should suspect that Indians 
were concealed in the vicinity. The controversy became warm, 
and during its progress, the boat drifted so far below the men, that 
they appeared to relinquish their pursuit in despair. 

At this time, Flinn made a second proposal, which, according to 
his method of reasoning, could be carried into effect, without the 
slightest risk to any one but himself. They were now more than a 
mile below the pursuers. He proposed that May should only touch 


406 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


the hostile shore long enough to permit him to jump out. That it 
was impossible for Indians, (even admitting that they were at hand,) 
to arrive in time to arrest the boat, and even should any appear, they 
could immediately put off from shore and abandon him to his fate. 
That he was confident of being able to outrun the red devils, if they 
saw him first, and was equally confident of being able to see them 
as soon as they could see him. May remonstrated upon so un¬ 
necessary an exposure—but Flinn was inflexible, and in an evil hour, 
the boat was directed to the shore. They quickly discovered, what 
ought to have been known before, that they could not float as swiftly 
after leaving the current as while borne along by it, and they were 
nearly double the time in making the shore, that they had calculated 
upon. When within reach Flinn leaped fearlessly upon the hostile 
bank, and the boat grated upon the sand. At that moment, five or 
six savages, ran up out of breath, from the adjoining wood, and 
seizing Flinn, began to fire upon the boat’s crew. Johnston and 
Skyles sprung to their arms, in order to return the fire, while May, 
seizing an oar attempted to regain the curent. Fresh Indians arrived, 
however, in such rapid succession, that the beach was quickly 
crowded by them, and May called out to his companions to cease 
firing and come to the oars. This was done, but it was too late. 

The river, as we have already observed, was very high, and their 
clumsy and unwieldy boat, had become entangled in the boughs of 
the trees which hung over the water, so that after the most desperate 
efforts to get her off, they were compelled to relinquish the attempt 
in despair. During the whole of this time the Indians were pouring 
a heavy fire into the boat, at a distance not exceeding ten paces. 
Their horses, of which they had a great number on board, had broken 
their halters, and mad with terror were plunging so furiously as to 
expose them to a danger scarcely less dreadful than that which 
menaced them from shore. In addition to this, none of them had 
ever beheld a hostile Indian before, (with the exception of May,) and 
the furious gestures and appalling yells of the enemy, struck a terror 
to their hearts which had almost deprived them of their faculties. 
Seeing it impossible to extricate themselves, they all lay down upon 
their faces, in such parts of the boat, as would best protect them 
from the horses, and awaited in passive helplessness, the approach 
of the conquerors. The enemy, however, still declined boarding, and 
contented themselves with pouring in an incessant fire, by which all 
the horses were killed, and which at length began to grow fatal to 
the crew. One of the females received a ball in her mouth which 
had passed immediately over Johnston’s head, and almost instantly 
expired. Skyles, immediately aftewards, was severely wounded in 
both shoulders, the ball striking the right shoulder blade, and rang¬ 
ing transversely along his back. The fire seemed to grow hotter 
every moment, when, at length May arose and waved his night-cap 
above his head as a signal of surrender. He instantly received a 
ball in the middle of the forehead and fell perfectly dead by the side 
of Johnston, covering him with his blood. 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FL1NN AND SKYLES. 


407 


Now, at last, the enemy ventured to board. Throwing themselves 
into the water, with their tomahawks in their hands, a dozen or 
twenty swam to the boat, and began to climb the sides. Johnston 
stood ready to do the honors of the boat, and presenting his hand to 
each Indian in succession, he helped them over the side to the num¬ 
ber of twenty. Nothing could appear more cordial than the meeting. 
Each Indian shook him by the hand, with the usual salutation of 
“ How de do,” in passable English, while Johnston encountered 
every visiter with an affectionate squeeze, and a forced smile, in 
which terror struggled with civility. The Indians then passed on 
to Skyles and the surviving Miss Fleming, where the demonstations 
of mutual joy were not quite so lively. Skyles was writhing under 
a painful wound, and the girl was sitting by the dead body of her 
sister. Having shaken hands with all of their captives, the Indians 
proceeded to scalp the dead, which was done with great coolness, 
and the reeking scalps were stretched and prepared upon hoops for 
the usual process of drying, immediately before the eyes of the 
survivors. The boat was then drawn ashore, and its contents ex¬ 
amined with great greediness. Poor Skyles, in addition to the pain 
of his wounds, was compelled to witness the total destruction of his 
property, by the hands of these greedy spoilers, who tossed his silks, 
cambric, and broadcloth into the dirt, with the most reckless indiffer¬ 
ence. At length they stumbled upon a keg of whiskey. The prize 
was eagerly seized, and every thing else abandoned. The Indian 
who had found it, carried it ashore and was followed by the rest with 
tumultous delight. A large fire nearly fifty feet long was kindled, 
and victors and vanquished indiscriminately huddled around it. As 
yet no attempt had been made to strip the prisoners, but unfortu¬ 
nately, Johnston was handsomely dressed in a broadcloth surtout, 
red vest, fine ruffled shirt and a new pair of boots. The Indians 
began to eye him attentively, and at length one of them, whose name 
he afterwards learned was Chick-a-tommo, a Shawanee chief, came 
up to him, and gave the skirt of his coat two or three hard pulls, 
accompanied by several gestures which were not to be mistaken. 
Johnston stripped off his coat, and very politely handed it to him. 
His red waistcoat was now exposed to full view and attracted great 
attention. Chick-a-tommo exclaimed, ‘ Hugh! you big Cappatain! ’ 
Johnston hastily assured him that he was mistaken, that he was no 
officer—nor had any connection with military affairs whatever. The 
Indian then drew himself up, pointed with his finger to his breast, 
and exclaimed, ‘Me Cappatain ! all dese,’ pointing to his men, ‘my 
sogers ! ’ The red waistcoat accompanied the surtout, and Johnston 
quickly stood shivering in his shirt and pantaloons. An old Indian 
then came up to him, and placing one hand upon his own shirt (a 
greasy filthy garment, which had not, probably, been washed for six 
months,) and the other upon Johnston’s ruffles, cried out in English, 
‘ Swap ! Swap !’ at the same time, giving the ruffles a gentle pull 
with his dirty fingers. Johnston, conquering his disgust at the pro¬ 
posal, was about to comply, and had drawn his shirt over his head, 
35 


408 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


when it was violently pulled back by another Indian, whose name, 
he afterwards learned, was Tom Lewis. His new ally then re¬ 
proached the other Indian severely for wishing to take the shirt from 
a prisoner’s back in such cold weather, and directly afterwards threw 
his own blanket over Johnston’s shoulders. The action was accom¬ 
panied by a look so full of compassion and kindness, that Johnston, 
who had expected far different treament, was perfectly astonished. 
He now saw that native kindness of heart and generosity of feeling, 
was by no means rare even among savages. 

The two white men who had decoyed them ashore, and whose 
names were Divine and Thomas, now appeared, and took their seats 
by the side of the captives. Sensible of the reproach to which they 
had exposed themselves, they hastened to offer an excuse for their 
conduct. They declared that they really had been taken in Ken¬ 
nedy’s bottom a few days before, and that the Indians had compelled 
them, by threats of instant death in case of refusal, to act as they 
had done. They concluded by some common place expressions of 
regret for the calamity which they had occasioned, and declared that 
their own misery was aggravated at beholding that of their country¬ 
men ! In short, words were cheap with them, and they showered them 
out in profusion. But Johnston and Skyles’ sufferings had been and 
still were too severe, to permit their resentment to be appeased by 
such light atonement. Their suspicions of the existence of wilful 
and malignant treachery on the part of the white men, (at least one 
of them,) were confirmed by the report of a negro, who quickly 
made his appearance, and who, as it appeared, had been taken in 
Kentucky a few days before. He declared that Thomas had been 
extremely averse to having any share in the treachery, but had been 
overruled by Divine, who alone had planned, and was most active 
in the execution of the project, having received a promise from the 
Indians, that, in case of success, his own liberty should be restored 
to him. This report has been amply confirmed by subsequent 
testimony. 

In a few minutes, six squaws, most of them very old, together 
with two white children, a girl and a boy, came down to the fire, and 
seated themselves. The children had lately been taken from Ken¬ 
tucky. Skyles’ wound now became excessively painful, and Flinn, 
w r ho, in the course of his adventurous life, had picked up some 
knowledge of surgery, was permitted to examine it. He soon found 
it necessary to make an incision, which was done very neatly with a 
razor. An old squaw then washed the wound, and having caught the 
bloody water in a tin cup, presented it to Skyles, and requested him 
to drink it, assuring him that it would greatly accelerate the cure. 
He thought it most prudent to comply. 

During the whole of this time, the Indians remained silently 
smoking or lounging around the fire. No sentinels were posted in 
order to prevent a surprize but each man’s gun stood immediately 
behind him, with the breech resting upon the ground, and the barrel 
supported against a small pole, placed horizontally upon two forks. 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


409 


Upon the slightest alarm, every man could have laid his hand upon 
his own gun. Their captors were composed of small detachments 
from several tribes. Much the greater portion belonged to the 
Shawanees, but there were several Delawares, Wyandotts, and a few 
wanderding Cherokees. After smoking, they proceeded to the divi¬ 
sion of their prisoners. Flinn was given to a Shawanee warrior— 
Skyles to an old crabbed, ferocious Indian of the same tribe, whose 
temper was sufficiently expressed in his countenance, while Johnston 
was assigned to a young Shawanee chief, whom he represents as 
possessed of a disposition which would have done him honor in any 
age or in any nation. His name was Messhawa, and he had just 
reached the age of manhood. His person was tall, and expressive 
rather of action than strength, his air was noble, and his countenance 
mild, open, and peculiarly prepossessing. He evidently possessed 
great influence among those of his own tribe, which, as the sequel 
will show, he exerted with great activity on the side of humanity. 
The surviving Miss Fleming was given to the Cherokees, while the 
Wyandotts and the Delawares were allowed no share in the distribu¬ 
tion. No dissatisfaction, however, was expressed. The division 
had been proclaimed by an old chief in a loud voice, and a brief 
guttural monosyllable announced their concurrence. After the dis¬ 
tribution of their captives, Flinn, Divine and Thomas, were ordered 
to prepare four additional oars, for the boat which they had taken, as 
they had determined to man it, and assail such other boats as should 
be encountered during their stay on the Ohio. These and several 
other preparations occupied the rest of the day. 

On the next morning, the Indians arose early and prepared for an 
encounter, expecting, as usual, that boats would be passing. They 
dressed their scalp tufts, and painted their faces in the most approved 
manner, before a pocket glass which each carried with him, grimma- 
cing, and frowning in order to drill their features to the expression 
of the most terrific passions. About ten o’clock, a canoe, containing 
six, men, was seen, slowly and laboriously ascending the river upon 
the Kentucky shore. All the prisoners were immediately ordered 
to descend the bank to the water’s edge and decoy the canoe within 
reach of the Indian guns. Johnston, with whatever reluctance, was 
compelled to accompany the rest. Divine on this, as on the former 
occasion, was peculiarly active and ingenious in stratagems. He 
invented a lamentable story of their canoe having been overset and 
of their starving condition, destitute as they were of either guns or 
axes. It was with agony that Johnston beheld the canoes put oft’ 
from the Kentucky shore, and move rapidly towards them, struggling 
with the powerful current, which bore them so far below them that 
they could not distinguish the repeated signs which Johnston made, 
warning them to keep oflf. The Indians perceiving how far the 
canoe was driven below them, ran rapidly down the river, under 
cover of the woods, and concealed themselves among the willows, 
which grew in thick clusters upon the bank. The unsuspecting 
canoernen soon drew near, and when within sixty yards, received a 


410 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


heavy fire which killed every man on board. Some fell into the 
river, and overset the canoe, which drifted rapidly down the current, 
as did the bodies of the slain. The Indians sprung into the water, 
and dragging them ashore, tomahawked two of them, who gave some 
sings of life, and scalped the whole. 

Scarcely had this been done, when a more splendid booty appear¬ 
ed in view. It happened that Captain Thomas Marshall, of the 
Virginia artillery, with several other gentlemen, was descending the 
Ohio, having embarked only one day later than May. They had 
three boats weakly manned, but heavily laden with horses and dry 
goods, intended for Lexington. About twelve o’clock on the second 
day of Johnston’s captivity, the little flotilla appeared about a mile 
above the point where the Indians stood. Instantly all was bustle 
and activity. The additional oars were fixed to the boat, the savages 
sprung on board, and the prisoners were compelled to station them¬ 
selves at the oars, and were threatened with death unless they used 
their utmost exertions to bring them along side of the enemy. The 
three boats came down very rapidly and were soon immediately 
opposite their enemy. The Indians opened a heavy fire upon them, 
and stimulated their rowers to their utmost efforts. The boats be¬ 
came quickly aware of their danger, and a warm contest of skill and 
strength took place. There was an interval of one hundred yards 
between each of the three boats in view. The hindmost was for a 
time in great danger. Having but one pair of oars, and being weakly 
panned, she was unable to compete with the Indian boat, which 
greatly outnumbered her both in oars and men. The Indians quickly 
came within rifle shot, and swept the deck with an incessant fire, 
which rendered it extremely dangerous for any of the crew to show 
themselves. Captain Marshall was on board of the hindmost boat, 
and maintained his position at the steering oar, in defiance of the 
shower of balls which flew around him. He stood in his shirt 
sleeves with a red silk handkerchief bound around his head, which 
afforded a fair mark to the enemy, and steered the boat with equal 
steadiness and skill, while the crew below relieved each other at the 
oars. The enemy lost ground from two circumstances. In their 
eagerness to overtake the whites, they left the current, and attempted 
to cut across the river from point to point, in order to shorten the 
distance. In doing so, however, they lost the force of the current, 
and quickly found themselves dropping astern. In addition to this, 
the whites conducted themselves with equal coolness and dexterity. 
The second boat waited for the hindmost, and received her crew on 
board, abandoning the goods and horses, without scruple, to the 
enemy. Being now more strongly manned, she shot rapidly ahead, 
and quickly overtook the foremost boat, which, in like manner, re¬ 
ceived her crew on board, abandoning the cargo as before, and having 
six pair of oars, and being powerfully manned, she was soon beyond 
the reach of the enemy’s shot. The chase lasted more than an hour. 
For the first half hour, the fate of the hindmost boat hung in mourn¬ 
ful suspense, and Johnston, with agony, looked forward to the proba- 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


411 


bility of its capture. The prisoners were compelled to labor hard 
at the oars, but they took care never to puli together, and by every 
means in their power, endeavored to lavor the escape of their friends. 

At length, the Indians abandoned the pursuit and turned their 
whole attention to the boats which had been deserted. The booty 
surpassed their most sanguine expectations. Several fine horses 
were on board, and flour, sugar, and chocolate in profusion. An¬ 
other keg of whiskey was found and excited the same immoderate 
joy as at first. It was unanimously determined to regale themselves 
in a regular feast, and preparations were made to carry their resolu¬ 
tion into effect. A large kettle of chocolate and sugar, of which the 
sugar formed the greater part, was set upon the fire, which an old 
squaw stirred with a dirty stick. Johnston was promoted on the 
spot to the rank of cook, and received orders to bake a number of 
flour cakes in the fire. A deer skin, which had served for a saddle 
blanket, and was most disgustingly stained by having been applied 
to a horse’s sore back, was given him as a tray, and being repeated¬ 
ly ordered to “ make haste,” he entered upon his new office with 
great zeal. By mixing a large portion of sugar with some dump¬ 
lings, which he boiled in chocolate, he so delighted the palates of 
the Indians, that they were enthusiastic in their praises, and an¬ 
nounced their intention of keeping him in his present capacity as 
long as he remained with them. The two kegs which had been 
carefully guarded were now produced, and the mirth began to border 
on the “ fast and furious.” A select band, as usual, remained sober, 
in order to maintain order and guard against surprize, but the prison¬ 
ers were invited to get drunk with their red brothers. Johnston and 
Skyles declined the invitation, but Flinn, without waiting to be 
asked twice, joined the revellers, and soon became as drunk as any 
of them. In this situation he entered into a hot dispute with an In¬ 
dian, which, after much abuse on both sides, terminated in blows, 
and his antagonist received a sad battering. Several of his tribe 
drew their knives, and rushed upon Flinn with fury but were re¬ 
strained amid peals of laughter by the others, who declared that Flinn 
had proved himself a man, and should have fair play. 

In the mean time, Johnston and Skyles had been bound and re¬ 
moved to a convenient distance from the drinking party, with the 
double design of saving their lives, and guarding against escape.— 
While laying in this manner, and totally unable to help themselves, 
they beheld with terror, one of the revellers staggering towards them, 
with a drawn knife in his hand, and muttering a profusion of drunken 
curses. He stopped within a few paces of them, and harangued 
them with great vehemence, for nearly a minute, until he had worked 
himself up to a state of insane fury, when suddenly uttering a start¬ 
ling yell, he sprung upon the prostrate body of Skyles and seizing 
him by the hair endeavored to scalp him. Fortunately he was too 
much intoxicated to exert his usual dexterity, and before he had 
succeeded in his design, the guard ran up at full speed, and seizing 
him by the shoulders, hurled him violently backwards to the dis- 
35* 


412 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


tance of several yards. The drunken beast rolled upon the ground, 
and with difficulty recovering his feet, staggered off, muttering curses 
against the white man, the guard, himself, and the whole world. 
Skyles had only felt the point of the knife, but had given up his 
scalp for lost, and rubbed the crown of his head several times with 
feverish apprehensions, before he could be satisfied that his scalp 
was still safe. 

No other incident occurred during the night, and on the following 
morning the Indians separated. Those to whom Flinn belonged, 
remained at the river in expectation of intercepting other boats, while 
Johnston’s party struck through the wilderness, in a steady direction 
for their towns. During their first day’s march, lie afforded much 
amusement to his captors. In the boat abandoned by Captain Mar¬ 
shall, they had found a milch cow, haltered in the usual manner. 
Upon leaving the river, they committed her to the care of Johnston, 
requiring him to lead her by the halter. Being totally unaccustomed 
to this method of travelling, she proved very refractory and perplexed 
him exceedingly. When he took one side of a tree, she regularly 
chose the other. Whenever he attempted to lead her, she planted 
her feet firmly before her, and refused to move a step. When he 
strove to drive her, she ran off into the bushes, dragging him after 
her, to the no small injury of his person and dress. The Indians 
were in a roar of laughter throughout the whole day, and appeared 
highly to enjoy his perplexity. At night they arrived at a small 
encampment, where they had left their women and children. Here, 
to his great joy, Johnston was relieved of his charge, and saw her 
slaughtered with the utmost gratification. At night, he suffered 
severely by the absence of the benevolent Messhawa, to whose 
charge, as we have already said, he had been committed. The In¬ 
dians were apprehensive of pursuit, and directed Messhawa, at the 
head of several warriors, to bring up the rear, and give them season¬ 
able warning of any attempt on the part of the whites to regain their 
prisoners. In his absence, he had been committed to an Indian of 
very different character. While his new master was engaged in 
tying his hands, as usual, for the night, he ventured to complain that 
the cords were drawn too tight, and gave him unnecessary pain. 
The Indian flew into a passion, exclaiming, “ Dam you soul!” and 
drew the cord with all the violence of which he was capable, until 
it was completely buried in the flesh. Johnston, in consequence, 
did not sleep for a moment, but passed the whole night in exquisite 
torture. In the morning Messhawa came up, and finding bis 
prisoner in a high fever, and his hands excessively swollen, cut the 
cords, and exchanged some high words with the other Indian upon 
the subject. 

The march was quickly recommenced, and Johnston could not 
avoid congratulating himself every moment, upon his good fortune 
in having Messhawa for his guide. Skyles’ master seemed to take 
pleasure in tormenting him. In addition to an enormous quantity 
of baggage, he compelled him to carry his rifle, by which his raw 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


413 


wound was perpetually irritated and prevented from healing._ 

Messhawa permitted Johnston to share his own mess upon all occa¬ 
sions, while the savage to whom Skyles belonged, would scarcely 
permit him to eat a dozen mouthfuls, a day, and never without 
embittering his meat with curses and blows. In a few days they 
arrived at the Scioto river, which, from the recent rains, was too 
high to admit of being forded. The Indians were immediately 
employed in constructing a raft, and it was necessary to carry one 
very large log, several hundred yards. Two Indians with a hand¬ 
spike supported the lighter end, while the butt was very charitably 
bestowed upon Johnston alone. Not daring to murmur, he exerted 
his utmost strength, and aided by several Indians, with some dfficul- 
ty, succeeded in placing the enormous burden upon his shoulder. 
He quickly found, however, that the weight was beyond his strength, 
and wishing to give his two companions in front warning of his 
inability to support it, he called to them in English to “ take care!” 
They did not understand him, however, and continued to support it, 
when finding himself in danger of being crushed to death, he dropped 
the log so suddenly that both Indians were knocked down, and lay 
for a time without sense or motion. They soon sprung up, how¬ 
ever, and drawing their tomahawks, would instantly have relieved 
Johnston of all his troubles, had not the other Indians, amid peals 
of laughter, restrained them, and compelled them to vent their spleen 
in curses, which were showered upon “ Ketepels,” as he w r as called, 
for the space of an hour, with great fury. 

After crossing the Scioto, the Indians displayed a disposition to 
loiter and throw away time, but little in unison with Johnston’s 
feelings, who was anxious to reach their towns as speedily as possi¬ 
ble, flattering himself with the hope that some benevolent trader 
would purchase him of the Indians and restore him to liberty.— 
They amused themselves at a game called “ Nosey,” with a pack 
of cards which had been found in one of the abandoned boats. The 
pack is equally divided between two of them, and by some process 
which Johnston did not understand, each endeavored to get all the 
cards into his own possession. The winner had a right to ten 
fillups at his adversary’s nose, which the latter was required to sus¬ 
tain with inflexible gravity, as the winner was entitled to ten addi¬ 
tional fillups for every smile which he succeeded in forcing from 
him. At this game they would be engaged for a whole day, with 
the keenest interest, the bystanders looking on with a delight scarce¬ 
ly inferior to that of the gamblers themselves, and laughing immod¬ 
erately when the penalty was exacted. 

When gaming, they were usually kind to their prisoners, but 
this ray of sunshine was frequently very suddenly overcast. Johns¬ 
ton ventured to ask an old Shawanee chief, how far they would be 
forced to travel, before reaching his village. The old man very 
good naturedly assured him, by drawing a diagram upon the sand 
with a stick, pointing out the situation of the Ohio river, of the 
Scioto, and of the various Indian villages, and pointing to the sun, 


414 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


he waved his hand once for every day which they would employ in 
the journey. Johnston then ventured to ask “ how many inhabi¬ 
tants his village contained? ” The old man replied, that the Shaw- 
anees had once been a great nation, but (and here his eyes flashed 
fire, and he worked himself into a furious passion) the long knives 
had killed nearly the whole of his nation. “ However,” continued 
he, “so long as there is a Shawanee alive, we will fight! fight! 
fight! When no Shawanee—then no fight.” 

The prisoners were also in great danger whenever the Indians 
passed through a forest which had been surveyed, and where the 
marks of the axe upon the trees were evident. They would halt 
upon coming to such a tree, and after a few minutes’ silence, would 
utter the most terrible yells, striking the trees with their hatchets, 
and cursing the prisoners with a fierceness which caused them often 
to abandon all hopes of life. On one occasion, they passed suddenly 
from the most ferocious state of excitement, to the opposite extreme 
of merriment at a slight disaster which befel Johnston. They were 
often compelled to ford creeks, but upon one occasion, they attempt¬ 
ed to pass upon a log. The morning was bitterly cold and frosty, 
and the log having been barked, was consequently very slippery. 
In passing upon this bridge, Johnston’s foot slipped, and he fell into 
the cold water, with an outcry so sudden and shrill that the whole 
party, which the instant before had been inflamed with rage, burst 
at once into loud laughter, which, at intervals, was maintained for 
several miles. Sometimes they amused themselves by compelling 
their prisoners to dance, causing them to pronounce in a tone bor¬ 
dering on music, the words “Mom-ne-kah ! He-kah-kah! Was-sat- 
oo—Hos-ses-kah !” and this monotonous and fatiguing exercise was 
occasionally relieved by the more exciting one of springing over a 
large fire, when the blaze was at its highest, in which they could 
only escape injury by great activity. 

The painful journey had now lasted nearly a month, and the 
Indian towns were yet at a great distance. Hitherto, Skyles and 
Johnston had remained together, but by the whimsical fancy of their 
■captors, they were now separated. Skyles was borne off to the 
Miami towns, while Johnston was destined for Sandusky. A few 
days after this separation, Johnston’s party fell in with a Wyandott 
and a negro man, who, having run away from Kentucky, had been 
taken up by the Wyandott, and retained as an assistant in a very 
lucrative trade, which he was at that time carrying on with the 
Indians of the interior. He was in the habit of purchasing whis¬ 
key, powder, blankets, &c., at Detroit, generally upon credit, pack¬ 
ing them upon horses into the interior, and exchanging them at a 
profit of nearly one thousand per cent, for furs and hides. This 
casual rencontre in the wilderness, was followed by great demonstra¬ 
tions of joy on both sides. The trader produced his rum, the Shaw- 
anees their merchandize, and a very brisk exchange ensued* Johns¬ 
ton’s boots, for which he had paid eight dollars in Virginia, were 
gladly given for a pint of rum> and other articles were sold at a pro- 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


415 


portionate price. Johnston, as before, was removed from the imme¬ 
diate neighborhood of the travellers, and committed to the care of 
two sober Indians, with strict injunctions to prevent his escape.— 
They, accordingly, bound him securely, and passing the ends of the 
cord under their own bodies, lay down to sleep, one upon each side 
of their prisoner. At midnight Johnston was awakened by a heavy 
rain, although his guides slept on with most enviable composure.— 
Unable to extricate himself, and fearful of awakening them, he was 
endeavoring to submit with patience, when the negro appeared and 
very courteously invited him to take shelter in his tent, which stood 
within fifty yards of the spot where he lay. Johnston was begin¬ 
ning to explain to his black friend the impossibility of moving with¬ 
out the consent of his guards, when they suddenly sprung to their 
feet, and seizing the negro by the throat, and at the same time 
grasping Johnston’s collar, they uttered the alarm halloo in the most 
piercing tones. The whole band of drunken Indians instantly 
repeated the cry, and ran up, tomahawk in hand, and with the most 
ferocious gestures. Johnston gave himself up for lost, and the ne¬ 
gro looked white with terror, but their enemies conducted themselves 
with more discretion, than, from their drunken condition, could have 
been anticipated. They seized Johnston, bore him off a few paces 
into the woods, and questioned him closely as to the conference be¬ 
tween himself and the negro. He replied by simply and clearly 
stating the truth. They then grappled the negro, and menacing him 
with their knives, threatened to take his scalp on the spot, if he did 
not tell the truth. His story agreed exactly with Johnston’s, and 
the Indians became satisfed that no plot had been concerted. The 
incident, however, had completely sobered them, and for several 
hours the rum cask gave way to the dancing ring, which was formed 
in front of the negro’s tent, where Johnston had been permitted, 
after the alarm subsided, to take shelter from the rain. He quickly 
fell asleep, but was grievously tormented by the nightmare. He 
dreamed that he was drowning in the middle of a creek which he 
had crossed on that morning, and his respiration became so painful 
and laborious, that he at length awoke. The song and the dance 
were still going on around him, and the cause of his unpleasant 
dream was quickly manifest. A huge Indian had very composedly 
seated himself upon his breast, and was smoking a long pipe, and 
contemplating the dancers, apparently very well satisfied with his 
seat. Johnston turned himself upon his side and threw the Indian 
off. He did not appear to relish the change of place much, but 
soon settled himself and continued to smoke with uninterrupted 
gravity. 

At daylight, a new scene presented itself. The warriors painted 
themselves in the most frightful colors, and performed a war dance, 
with the usual accompaniments. A stake, painted in alternate stripes 
of black and vermillion, was fixed in the ground, and the dancers 
moved in rapid but measured evolutions around it. They recounted, 
with great energy, the wrongs they had received from the whites.— 


416 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


Their lands had been taken from them—their corn cut up—their 
villages burnt—their friends slaughtered—every injury which they 
had received was dwelt upon, until their passions had become 
inflamed beyond all control. Suddenly, Chickatommo darted from 
the circle of dancers, and with eyes flashing fire, ran up to the spot 
where Johnston was sitting, calmly contemplating the spectacle be¬ 
fore him. When within reach he struck him a furious blow with 
his fist, and was preparing to repeat it, when Johnston seized him 
by the arms, and hastily demanded the cause of such unprovoked 
violence. Chickatommo, grinding his teeth with rage, shouted, 
“ Sit down ! sit down! ” Johnston obeyed, and the Indian, per¬ 
ceiving the two white children within ten steps of him, snatched up 
a tomahawk, and advanced upon them with a quick step, and a de¬ 
termined look. The terrified little creatures instantly arose from 
the log on which they were sitting, and fled into the woods, uttering 
the most piercing screams, while their pursuer rapidly gained upon 
them with his tomahawk uplifted. The girl, being the youngest, 
was soon overtaken, and would have been tomahawked, had not 
Messhawa bounded like a deer to her relief. He arrived barely in 
time to arrest the uplifted tomahawk of Chickatommo, after which, 
he seized him by the collar and hurled him violently backward to 
the distance of several paces. Snatching up the child in his arms, 
he then ran after the brother, intending to secure him likewise from 
the fury of his companion, but the boy, misconstruing his intention, 
continued his flight with such rapidity, and doubled several times 
with such address, that the chaise was prolonged to the distance of 
several hundred yards. At length Messhawa succeeded in taking 
him. The boy, thinking himself lost, uttered a wild cry, which was 
echoed by his sister, but both were instantly calmed. Messhawa 
took them in his arms, spoke to them kindly, and soon convinced 
them that they had nothing to fear from him. He quickly reap¬ 
peared, leading them gently by the hand, and soothing them in the 
Indian language, until they both clung to him closely for protection. 
No other incident disturbed the progress of the ceremonies, nor did 
Chickatommo appear to resent the violent interferance of Messhawa. 

Their rum was not yet exhausted, and after the conclusion of the 
war dance, they returned to it with renewed vigor. A lame Mingo, 
on a solitary hunting excursion, soon joined them, and with drunken 
hospitality, was pressed, and in some degree compelled to get drunk 
with them. They soon became very affectionate, and the Mingo, 
taking advantage of the momentary generosity produced by the rum, 
ventured to ask that Johnston might be given to him, for a particular 
purpose, which he explained to them. He said that he had lately 
killed a warrior of the Wyandott tribe, whose widow had clamor¬ 
ously demanded that he (the Mingo) should either procure her 
another husband, or lay down his own life as a penalty for the slain 
Wyandott. He added that he was too poor to procure her another 
husband, unless he should take that honorable office upon himself, 
for which he had but small inclination, the squaw in question being 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


417 


■well stricken in years, tolerable crooked, and withal a most terrible 
scold, and that he must submit to the other alternative, and lay 
down his life, unless the Shawanees would have compassion upon 
him, and give him Johnston, who (he said) being young and hand¬ 
some, would doubtless be acceptable to the squaw aforesaid, and 
console her faithful heart for the loss of her former husband. He 
urged his suit with so much earnestness, that the Shawanees relen¬ 
ted, and assured him that Johnston should be delivered into his 
hands. This was accordingly done, without the slightest regard to 
the prisoner’s inclination, and within an hour, the whole party took 
leave of him, shaking him heartily by the hand, and congratulating 
him upon his approaching happiness, telling him that there was a 
fine squaw waiting for him in the Wyandott town. Johnston would 
have liked the adoption better without the appendage of the bride, 
but thinking that if she were one of the furies, her society would be 
preferable to the stake and hot irons, he determined to make the 
best of his condition, and wear his shackles as easily as possible, 
until an opportunity offered of effecting his escape. His new mas¬ 
ter, after lingering around the late encampment until late in the day, 
at length shouldered his wallet, and moved off by the same route 
which the Shawanees had taken. By noon, on the following day, 
they came up with them, when a curious scene ensued. As soon 
as the Shawanees had become sober, they repented their late liber¬ 
ality, and determined to reclaim their prisoner; the Mingo stoutly 
demurred, and a long argument took place, accompanied by animated 
gestures, and not a few oaths on both sides. At length Messhawa 
put an end to the wrangling by seizing a horse by the halter, and 
ordering Johnston instantly to mount. He then sprung upon ano¬ 
ther, and applying the lash smartly to both horses, he quickly bore 
the prisoner beyond the sound of the Mingo’s voice. An hour’s 
ride brought them to Upper Sandusky, where Messhawa dismounted, 
and awaited the arrival of Chickatommo. He quickly appeared, 
accompanied by his party and followed by the discontented Mingo. 
The latter regarded Johnston from time to time with so earnest a 
countenance, and appeared so desirous of approaching him, that the 
latter became alarmed, lest in the rage of disappointment, he should 
inflict upon the prisoner the vengeance which he dared not indulge 
against the Shawanees. But his fears were quickly relieved. The 
Mingo dogged him so faithfully, that he at length came upon him 
while alone, and approaching him with a good natured smile, pre¬ 
sented a small pamphlet which Johnston had dropped on the prece¬ 
ding day. Having done this, he shook him by the hand, and imme¬ 
diately left the village. 

At Sandusky, Johnston became acquainted with Mr. Duchouquet, 
a French trader, who had for several years resided among the Indians, 
and was extensively engaged in the fur trade. To him he recoun¬ 
ted his adventures, and earnestly solicited his good offices in deliver¬ 
ing him from the Indians. Duchouquet promptly assured him, that 
every exertion should be used for that purpose, and lost no time in 


418 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


redeeming his pledge. That evening he spoke to Chicltatommo, 
and offered a liberal ransom for the prisoner, blit his efforts were 
fruitless. The Shawanee chief did not object to the price, but 
declared that no sum should induce them to give him up, until they 
had first taken him to their towns. This answer was quickly 
reported to Johnston, and filled him with despair. But as the 
Shawanee party wrnre engaged in another drinking bout, he entreated 
Duchouquet, to seize the favorable moment, when their hearts were 
mellowed with rum, and repeat his offer. The Frenchman com¬ 
plied, and was again peremptorily refused. Johnston now desired 
him to enquire of Chickatommo the name of the town to which he 
was to be taken, and the fate which was in reserve for him, upon 
his arrival there. To the first question Chickatommo promptly 
replied, that the prisoner was to be carried to the x\liami villages, 
but to the second he gave no satisfactory answer, being probably 
ignorant himself upon the subject. The mention of the Miami 
villages, completely extinguished every spark of hope, which still 
existed in Johnston’s breast, as those towns had heretofore been the 
grave of every white prisoner who had visited them. He had also 
heard, that the Indians carefully concealed from their victims the 
fate which awaited them, either from some instinctive feelings of 
compassion, or more probably from policy, in order to prevent the 
desperate efforts to escape, which were usual with prisoners who 
were informed of their destiny. Under these circumstances, he 
gloomily abandoned himself to despair, and lay down in helpless 
expectation of his fate. But no sooner had he abandoned the case, 
than fortune, as usual, put in her oar, and displayed that capricious 
but omnipotent power, for which she has so long and so deservedly 
been celebrated. The same Wyandott trader, who had encountered 
them in the wilderness, now again appeared at Sandusky, with 
several horses laden with kegs of rum, and in the course of two 
days, completely stripped them of every skin, blanket, and article 
of merchandize which had escaped his rapacity before. 

On the morning of the third day, Chickatommo and his party 
awoke as from a dream, and found themselves poor, destitute, ragged 
and hungry, without the means of supplying any of their wants. 
Ashamed to return to their village in this condition, after having 
sent before them so magnificent a description of their wealth, they 
determined to return to the Ohio, in hopes of again replenishing 
their purses at the expense of emigrants. They accordingly appear¬ 
ed of their own accord before Duchouquet, and declared, that as the 
scalp of their prisoner would be transported more easily than his 
person, they had determined to burn him on that evening—but, if 
he still wished to purchase him, they would forego the expected 
entertainment for his sake, and let him have the prisoner upon good 
terms. Duchouquet eagerly accepted the offer, and counted down 
six hundred silver broaches, the ordinary price of a prisoner. The 
Indians lost no time in delivering him into the trader’s hands, and 
having taken an affectionate leave of him, they again sat out for the 
Ohio. 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


419 


Johnston’s gratification may easily be conceived, but on the fol¬ 
lowing day his apprehensions returned with renewed vigor. To 
his great surprise, Chickatommo and his party again made their ap¬ 
pearance at Sandusky, having abandoned their contemplated trip to 
Ohio, and loitered about the village for several days, without any 
visible cause for such capricious conduct. Johnston, recollecting 
their former whimsical bargain with the Mingo, was apprehensive 
that the same scene was to be repeated, and resolving not to be taken 
alive, he armed himself, and awaited calmly their determination.— 
His suspicions, however, were entirely groundless. They passed 
him several times without the slightest notice, and at length set oft’ 
in earnest for Detroit, leaving him at full liberty with his friend 
Duchouquet. 

On the evening of their departure, a Delaware arrived from the 
Miami villages, with the heartrending intelligence, that his unfortu¬ 
nate companion, Flinn, had been burned at the stake a few days be¬ 
fore. The savage declared that he himself had been present at the 
spectacle, had assisted in torturing him, and had afterwards eaten a 
portion of his flesh, which he declared “ was sweeter than bear’s 
meat.” The intelligence was fully confirmed on the following day 
by a Canadian trader, who had just left the Miami towns. He 
stated that Flinn had been taken to their villages, and at first had 
entertained strong hopes of being adopted, as his bold, frank, and 
fearless character had made considerable impression upon his ene¬ 
mies. But the arrival of some wild chiefs from the extreme northern 
tribes, most of whom were cannibals, had completely changed his 
prospects. A wild council was held, in which the most terrible 
sentiments with regard to the whites were uttered. The custom of 
adopting prisoners was indignantly reprobated, as frivolous and ab¬ 
surd, and the resolution proclaimed that henceforth no quarter should 
be given to any age, sex or condition. Flinn was accordingly seized 
and fastened to the slake. The trader was one of the spectators.— 
Flinn quickly observed him, and asked if he was not ashamed to 
witness the distress of a fellow creature in that manner, without 
making some eflbrt to relieve him, upon which he immediately ran 
to the village and brought out several kegs of rum, which he offered 
as a ransom for the prisoner. The Indians, who, by this time, were 
in a terrible rage, rejected the offer with fierceness, and split the 
heads of the kegs with their tomahawks, suffering the liquor to flow 
unheeded upon the ground. The disappointed trader again returned 
to the village, and brought out six hundred silver broaches. They 
in turn were rejected, with additional tury, and not without a threat 
of treating him in the same manner, if he again interfered. The 
trader, finding every eflbrt vain, communicated his ill success to 
Flinn, who heard him with composure, and barely replied, “ Then 
all I have to saj is, God have mercy upon my soul J 11 The scene 
of torture then commenced, amid whoops and yells, which struck 
terror to the heart of the trader, but which the prisoner bore with 
the most heroic fortitude. Not a groan escaped him. He walked 
36 


420 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


calmly around the stake for several hours, until his flesh was roasted 
and the fire had burned down. An old squaw then approached in 
order to rekindle it, but Flinn, watching his opportunity, gave her 
so furious a kick in the breast, that she fell back totally insensible, 
and for several minutes was unable to take any further share in the 
ceremony. The warriors then bored his ancles, and passing thongs 
through the sinews, confined them closely to the stake, so that he 
was unable afterwards to offer the same resistance. His sufferings 
continued for many hours, until they were at length terminated by 
the tomahawk. 

Within a few days, he also heard of Styles. After leaving 
Johnston, this gentleman had been conducted to one of the towns 
on the Miami of the Lake, near the scene of Flinn’s execution, 
where, as usual, he was compelled to run the gauntlet. The Indian 
boys were his chief tormentors. One of the little urchins displayed 
particular address and dexterity in his infernal art. He provided 
himself with a stout switch taken from a thorn tree, upon which 
one of the largest thorns had been permitted to remain. As Skyles 
passed him, he drove the keen instrument up to the head in his 
naked back. The switch was wrested from his grasp, and was 
borne by Skyles, sticking in his back, to the end of his painful 
career. He continued in the hands of the same crabbed master, 
who had taken such pleasure in tormenting him upon the march 
through the wilderness, but had found means to make himself so 
acceptable to his squaw, that his time was rendered more agreeable 
than he could have anticipated. He carried water for her, gathered 
her wood, and soothed her sullen temper by a thousand little artifi¬ 
ces, so that her husband, who stood in some awe of his helpmate, 
was compelled to abate somewhat of his churlishness. lie at length 
reaped the fruit of his civility. The squaw returned one evening 
alot e to the wigwam, and informed Skyles, in confidence, that his 
death had been determined on in council, and that the following day 
had been appointed for his execution. He at first doubted the truth 
of this startling intelligence, and retiring to rest as usual, feigned to 
be asleep, but listened attentively to the conversation of the old 
squaw with her daughter, a young girl of fifteen. His doubts were 
quickly dispelled. His approaching execution w T as the subject of 
conversation between them, and their language soon became warm. 
The old lady insisted upon it that he was a good man, and ought to 
be saved, while the girl exulted at the idea of witnessing his agonies, 
declaring repeatedly that the “ white people were all devils,” and 
ought to be put to death. At length they ceased wrangling, and 
composed themselves to rest. Skyles immediately arose, took down 
his master’s rifle, shot bag, and corn pouch, and stepping lightly 
over the bodies of the family, quickly gained the wood, and bent his 
steps to the bank of the Miami river. Without an instant’s delay, 
he plunged into the stream, and swam to the opposite side. In so 
doing, however, he completely ruined his rifle, and was compelled 
to throw it away. Retaining the wallet of parched corn, he directed 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FL1NN AND SKYLES. 


421 


his steps to the southward, intending, if possible, to strike the settle¬ 
ments in Kentucky, but so poor a woodsman was he, that after a 
hard march of six hours, he again stumbled upon the Miami, within 
one hundred yards of the spot where he had crossed it before.— 
While anxiously meditating upon the best means of avoiding the 
dangers which surrounded him, he heard the tinkle of a bell within 
a few hundred yards of the spot where he stood, and hastily direct¬ 
ing his steps towards it, he saw a horse grazing quietly upon the 
rank grass of the bottom. Instantly mounting him, he again at¬ 
tempted to move in a southern direction, but was compelled by the 
thickness of the wood, and the quantity of fallen timber to change 
his course so frequently that he again became bewildered, and aban¬ 
doning his horse, determined to prosecute his journey on foot.— 
Daylight found him in a deep forest, without a path to direct him, 
without the means of procuring food, and without the slightest 
knowledge of any of those signs by which an experienced woodsman 
is enabled to direct his course through a trackless wilderness with 
such unerring certainty. Fearful of stumbling unawares upon some 
Indian town, he lay concealed all day, and at night re-commenced 
his journey. But fresh perplexities awaited him at every step. He 
was constantly encountering either a small village or a solitary wig- 
wain, from which he was frequently chased by the Indian dogs, with 
such loud and furious barking, that he more than once considered 
detection inevitable. In this manner he wandered through the 
woods for several days, until, faint with hunger, he determined at all 
risks to enter an Indian village, and either procure food or perish in 
the attempt. Having adopted this resolution, he no longer loitered 
on the way, but throwing himself boldly upon the first path which 
presented itself, he followed it at a brisk and steady pace, careless to 
what it might lead. About four o’clock in the afternoon, he came so 
suddenly upon a village that it was impossible to retreat without 
exposing himself to detection, and as he considered it madness to 
enter it in daylight,' he concealed himself among some old logs until 
nightfall, when he sallied out like an owl or a wolf in search of 
something to allay the piercing pangs of hunger. Nothing could be 
picked up upon the skirts of the village, as neither roasting ears nor 
garden fruit were in season, and it became necessary to enter the 
town or perish of hunger. Fortunately, the embers of a decayed 
fire lay near him, in which he found a sufficient quantity of coal 
with which to black his face and hands, and having completely dis¬ 
guised himself in this manner, he boldly marched into the hostile 
town, to take such fate as it should please heaven to send. He for¬ 
tunately had with him the remnant of a blanket, which he disposed 
about his person in the usual Indian manner, and imitating at the 
same time their straggling gate, he kept the middle of the street and 
passed unquestioned by squaw or warrior. Fortunately for him, 
the streets were almost entirely deserted, and as he afterwards learn¬ 
ed most of the warriors were absent. Security, however, was not 
his present object so much as food, which indeed had now become 


422 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


indispensable. Yet how was he to obtain it. He would not have 
hesitated to steal, had he known where to look for the larders, nor 
to beg, had he not known that he would have been greeted with the 
tomahawk. While slowly marching through the village and rumi¬ 
nating upon some feasible plan of satisfying his wants, he saw light 
in a wigwam at some distance, which gave it the appearance of a 
trader's booth. Cautiously approaching, he satisfied himself of the 
truth of his conjecture. A while man was behind a counter, dealing 
out various articles to several squaws who stood around him. After 
some hesitation, Skyles entered the shop, and in bad English asked 
for rum. The trader regarded him carelessly, and without appear¬ 
ing surprised at either his dress or manner, replied that he had no 
rum in the house, but would go and bring him some, if he could 
wait a few moments. So saying, he leaped carelessly over the 
counter and left the shop. Skyles instantly followed him, and stop¬ 
ping him in the street briefly recounted his story, and throwing 
himself upon his mercy, earnestly implored his assistance. The 
trader appeared much astonished, and visibly hesitated. Quickly 
recovering himself, however, he assured Skyles that he would use 
every effort to save him, although in doing so he himself would in¬ 
cur great risk. He then informed him that a band of Shawanees 
had appeared at the village on that very morning in keen pursuit of 
a prisoner, who (they said) had escaped a few days before, and whom 
they supposed to be still in the neighborhood, from the zigzag man¬ 
lier in which he had travelled. Many of the warriors of the town 
were at that moment assisting the Shawanees in hunting for him.— 
He added that they might be expected to return in the morning, in 
which case, if discovered, his death would be certain. Skyles lis¬ 
tened in great alarm to his account of the danger which surrounded 
him. If he left the village, he could scarcely expect to escape the 
numerous bands who were ranging the forests in search of him !— 
If he remained where he was, the danger was still more imminent. 
Under these circumstances he earnestly requested the advice of the 
trader as to the best means of avoiding his enemies. The man re¬ 
plied that he must instantly ’eave the village, as keen eyes would be 
upon him in the morning, and his design would be penetrated.— 
That he must conceal himself in a hazel thicket, which he pointed 
out to him, where in a short time he would join him with food, 
where they could arrange some feasible plan of escape. They then 
separated, the trader returning to his shop and Skyles repairing to 
the friendly thicket. Here within a few minutes he was joined by 
his friend, who informed him that he saw but one possible mode of 
escape. That it would be impossible for him either to remain where 
he was, or to attempt to reach the white settlements through the 
woods, but he declared that if he was diligent and active, he might 
overtake a boat which had left them that morning for Lake Erie, and 
oflered him his own skiff for that purpose. He added that the boat 
was laden with furs and was commanded by an English captain, 
who would gladly receive him on board. Skyles eagerly embraced 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


423 


the offer, and they proceeded without a moment’s delay to the river 
shore, where a handsome skiff with two oars lay in readiness for 
the water. Having taken an affectionate leave of the trader, Skyles 
put off from shore, and quickly gaining the current, rowed until 
daylight with the zeal of a man who knew the value of life and 
liberty. Iiis greatest apprehension was, that his flight would be 
discovered in time to prevent his reaching the boat, and at^very 
rustling ol the bushes on the hank of the river, or at every cry of 
the owl which arose from the deep forest around him, the blood 
would rush back to his heart, and he would fancy that his enemies 
were upon him. At length, between dawn and sunrise, he beheld 
the boat, which he had pursued so eagerly, only a few hundred 
yards in front, drifting slowly and calmly down the stream. He 
redoubled his exertions, and in half an hour was within hailing dis¬ 
tance. He called aloud for them to halt, but no answer was return¬ 
ed. Upon coming along side, he was unable to see a single man 
on board. Supposing her crew asleep, he mounted the side of the 
vessel, and saw the man at the helm enjoying a very comfortable 
nap, with the most enviable disregard to the dangers which might 
await him in the waters of Lake Erie, which were then in sight.—— 
The helmsman started up, rubbed his eys, looked around him, and 
aftersaluting his visiter, observed that “ he had almost fallen asleep.” 
Skyles agreed with him, and anxiously enquired for the captain.— 
The latter soon made his appearance in a woollen night cap, and the 
negociation commenced. The captain asked who he was* and what 
was the cause of so early a visit? Skyles was fearful of committing 
himself by a premature disclosure of his real character, and replied 
that he was an adventurer who had been looking out for land upon 
the Auglaize, but that he had been driven lrom the country by the 
apprehension of outrage from the Indians, who had lately become 
unusually incensed against the whites. The captain coolly replied, 
that he had heard of one white man having been burned a few days 
before, at one of the Miami villages, and had understood that ano¬ 
ther had avoided the same fate only by running away into the woods, 
where, unless retaken, it was supposed he would perish, as he had 
shown himself a miserable woodsman, and as numerous parlies were 
in search of him. After a moment’s hesitation Skyles frankly ac¬ 
knowledged himself to be that miserable fugitive, and threw himself 
at once upon their mercy. The English captain heard him appa¬ 
rently without surprise, and granted his request without hesitation. 
All was done with the utmost sang froid. In a short time they 
arrived at Detroit, where, to his no small astonishment, he beheld 
Chickatommo, Messhawa and their party, who had just arrived from 
Sandusky, after the sale of Johnston. Carefully avoiding them, he 
lay close in the house of a trader till the following day, when ano¬ 
ther large party arrived in pursuit of him, (having traced him down 
the river to Lake Erie,) and paraded the streets for several days, 
uttering loud complaints against those who had robbed them of their 
prisouer. Poor Skyles entertained the most painful apprehensions 
36 * 


424 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


for several days, but was at length relieved by their departure. Aa 
soon as possible he obtained a passage to Montreal, and returned in 
safety to the United States. 

In noticing the fate of the companions of Johnston’s captivity, we 
are naturally led to say something of the only female of the party. 
The reader cannot have forgotten that one of the Misses Fleming 
was killed upon the Ohio, and that the other became a prisoner, and 
was assigned to the Cherokees. Johnston had been much surprised 
at the levity of her conduct, when first taken. Instead of appearing 
dejected at the dreadful death of her sister, and the still more terrible 
fate of her friends, she never appeared more lively or better recon¬ 
ciled to her fate than while her captors lingered upon the banks of the 
Ohio. Upon the breaking up of the party, the Cherokees conducted 
their prisoner towards the Miami villages, and Johnston saw nothing 
more of her until after his own liberation. While he remained at 
the house of Mr. Duchouquet, the small party of Cherokees to 
whom she belonged suddenly made their appearance in the village 
in a condition so tattered and dilapidated, as to satisfy every one 
that all their booty had been wasted with their usual improvidence. 
Miss Fleming’s appearance, particularly, had been entirely changed. 
All the levity which had astonished Johnston so much on the banks 
of the Ohio, was completely gone. Her dress was tattered, her 
cheeks sunken, her eyes discolored by weeping, and her whole 
manner expressive of the most heartfelt wretchedness. Johnston 
addressed her with kindness, and enquired the cause of so great a 
change, but she only replied by wringing her hands and bursting 
into tears. Her master quickly summoned her away, and on the 
morning of her arrival she was compelled to leave the village, and 
accompany them to Lower Sandusky. Within a few days Johns¬ 
ton, in company with his friend Duchouquet, followed them to that 
place, partly upon business, and partly with the hope of effecting 
her liberation. He found the town thronged with Indians of various 
tribes, and there, for the first time, he learned that his friend Skyles 
had effected his escape. Upon enquiring for the Cherokees, he 
learned that they were encamped with their prisoner within a quar¬ 
ter of a mile of the town, holding themselves aloof from the rest,, 
and evincing the most jealous watchfulness over their prisoner.— 
Johnston applied to the traders of Sandusky for their good offices, 
and, as usual, the request was promptly complied with. They 
went out in a body to the Cherokee camp, accompanied by a white 
man named Whittaker, who had been taken from Virginia when a 
child, and had become completely naturalized among the Indians.— 
This Whittaker was personally known to Miss Fleming, having 
often visited Pittsburg where her father kept a small tavern, much 
frequented by Indians and traders. As soon as she beheld him, 
therefore, she ran up to the spot where he stood, and bursting into 
tears, implored him to save her from the cruel fate which she had 
no doubt awaited her. He engaged very zealously in her service, 
and finding that all the offers of the traders were rejected with dc- 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLES. 


425 


termined obstinacy, he returned to Detroit, and solicited the inter¬ 
cession of an old chief known among the whites by the name of 
“Old King Crane,” assuring him (a lie which we can scarcely 
blame) that the woman was his sister. King Crane listened with 
gravity to the appeal of Whittaker, acknowledged the propriety of 
interfering in the case of so near a relative, and very calmly walked 
out to the Cherokee camp, in order to try the efficacy of his own 
eloquence in behalf of the white squaw. He found her master, 
however, perfectly inexorable. The argument gradually waxed 
warm, till at length the Cherokees became enraged, and told the old 
man that it was a disgrace to a chief like him, to put himself upon a 
level with “ white people,” and that they looked upon him as no 
better than “ dirt.” 

At this insupportable insult, King Crane became exasperated in 
turn, and a very edifying scene ensued, in which each bespattered 
the other with a profusion of abuse for several minutes, until the 
Old King recollected himself sufficiently, to draw off for the present, 
and concert measures for obtaining redress. He returned to the 
village in a towering passion, and announced his determination to 
collect his young men and rescue the white squaw by force, and if 
the Cherokees dared to resist, he swore that he would take their 
scalps upon the spot. Whittaker applauded his doughty resolution, 
hut warned him of the necessity of despatch, as the Cherokees, 
alarmed at the idea of losing their prisoner, might be tempted to put 
her to death without further delay. This advice was acknowledged 
to be of weight, and before daylight on the following morning. King 
Crane assembled his young men, and advanced cautiously upon the 
Cherokee encampment. He found all but the miserable prisoner 
buried in sleep. She had been stripped naked, her body painted 
black, and in this condition, had been bound to a stake, around 
which hickory poles had already been collected, and every other 
disposition made for burning her alive at day-light. She was moan¬ 
ing in a low tone as her deliverers approached, and was so much 
exhausted as not to be aware of their approach, until King Crane 
had actually cut the cords which bound her, with his knife. He 
then ordered his young men to assist her in putting on her clothes, 
which they obeyed with the most stoical indifference. As soon as 
her toilet had been completed, the King awakened her masters, and 
informed them that the squaw was his! that if they submitted 
quietly, it was well!—if not, his young men and himself were 
ready for them. The Cherokees, as may readily be imagined, 
protested loudly against such unrighteous proceedings, but what 
could words avail against tomahawks and superior numbers? They 
finally expressed their willingness to resign the squaw—but hoped 
that King Crane would not be such a “ beast” as to refuse them the 
ransom which he had offered them on the preceding day ! The 
King replied coolly, that he had the squaw now in his own hands— 
and would serve them right if he refused to pay a single broach— 
but that he disdained to receive any thing at their hands, without 


426 


MAY, JOHNSTON, FLINN AND SKYLE9. 


paying an equivalent! and would give them six hundred broaches. 
He then returned to Lower Sandusky, accompanied by the liberated 
prisoner. She was then painted as a squaw by Whittaker, and sent 
off, under care of two trusty Indians to Pittsburg, where she arrived 
in safety in the course of the following week. 

The Cherokees, in the evening, paraded the streets of Sandusky, 
armed and painted, as if upon a war party, and loudly complained 
of the violence which had been offered to them. They declared that 
they would not leave town until they had shed the blood of a white 
man, in revenge for the loss of their prisoner. Johnston and Du- 
chouquet were compelled to remain closely at home for several 
days, until to their great joy, the Cherokees finally left the village, 
and were seen no more. 

The remainder of Johnston’s narrative is easily despatched. He 
quickly left Lower Sandusky, and embarked in a boat laden with 
fur to Detroit. After remaining here a few days, he took a passage 
to Montreal, and, for the first and last time, had an opportunity of 
beholding the tremendous falls of Niagara.* Having arrived at 
Montreal in safety, he remained a few days in order to arrange his 
affairs, and as soon as possible, continued his journey by way of 
Fort Stanwix to New York. There he had an interview with Pre¬ 
sident Washington, who, having been informed of his escape, sent 
for him, in order to make a number of inquiries as to the strength 
of the tribes through which he had passed, the force and condition 
of the British garrisons, and the degree of countenance which they 
had afforded to the hostile Indians. Having given all the informa¬ 
tion of which he was possessed, he was dismissed with great kind¬ 
ness, and in the course of the following week, he found himself 
in the bosom of his family. As the reader may probably lake some 
interest in the fate of the Indians whom we have mentioned, we 
are enabled to add something upon that subject. Chickatommo 
was killed at the decisive battle of the “ Fallen timber,” where the 
united force of the north-western tribes was defeated by Gen. 
Wayne. Messhawa fought at the same place, but escaped, and 
afterwards became a devoted follower of the celebrated Tecumseh. 
He fought at Tippecanoe, Raisin, and finally at the River Thames, 
where it is supposed he was killed. King Crane lived to a great 
age, was present at St. Clair’s defeat, and at the “ Fallen timber,” 
but finally became reconciled to the Americans, and fought under 
Harrison at Thames. Whittaker, the white man, was in St. Clair’s 
defeat, and afterwards with the Indians against Wayne. Tom 
Lewis fought against the Americans in all the north-western battles, 
until the final peace in 1796, and then was one of the deputation 
who came on to Washington city, where Johnston saw him in ’97. 
He afterwards rose to the rank of chief among the Shawnees, but 
having an incurable propensity to rum and thieving, he was degrad¬ 
ed from his rank, and removed, with a band of his countrymen, to 
the country west of the Mississippi. 

* This was an Iroquois word, and in their language signifies “The Thunder 
of the waters!” It is pronounced O-ni-aa-gaa-ra. 


HUBBELL. 


427 


CAPTAIN WILLI A’M IIUBBELL. 

In the year 1791, while the Indians were yet troublesome, espe¬ 
cially on the banks of the Ohio, Captain William Hubbell, who had 
previously emigrated to Kentucky from the State of Vermont, and 
who, after having fixed his family in the neighborhood of Frankfort, 
then a frontier settlement, had been compelled to go to the eastward 
on business, was a second time on his way to this country. On 
one of the tributary streams of the Monongahela, he procured a flat 
bottomed boat, and embarked in company with Mr. Daniel Light, 
and Mr. William Plascut and his family, consisting of a wife and 
eight children, destined for Limestone, Kentucky. On their pro¬ 
gress down the river Ohio, and soon after passing Pittsburg, they 
saw evident traces of Indians along the banks, and there is every 
reason to believe that a boat which they overtook, and which, 
through carelessness, was suffered to run aground on an island, be¬ 
came a prey to these merciless savages. Though Captain Hubbell 
and his party stopped some time for it in a lower part of the river, 
it did not arrive, and has never to their knowledge been heard of 
since. Before they reached the mouth of the Great Kenhawa, they 
had, by several successive additions, increased their number to 
twenty, consisting of nine men, three women, and eight children. 
The men, besides those mentioned above, were one John Stoner, 
an Irishman and a Dutchman, whose names are not recollected, 
Messrs. Ray and Tucker, and a Mr. Kilpatrick, whose two daugh¬ 
ters also were of the party. Information received at Galliopolis, 
confirmed the expectation, which appearances previously raised, of 
a serious conflict with a large body of Indians; and as Captain 
Hubbell had been regularly appointed commander of the boat, every 
possible preparation was made for a formidable and successful resis¬ 
tance of the anticipated attack. The nine men were divided into 
three watches for the night, which were alternately to continue 
awake, and be on the look out for two hours at a time. The arms 
on board, which consisted principally of old muskets, much out of 
order, were collected, loaded, and put in the best possible condition 
for service. About sunset on that day, the 23d of March, 1791, 
our party overtook a fleet of six boats descending the river in com¬ 
pany, and intended to have continued with them, but as their pas¬ 
sengers seemed to be more disposed to dancing than fighting, and 
as soon after dark, notwithstanding the remonstrances of Captain 
Hubbell, they commenced fiddling and dancing instead of preparing 
their arms, and taking the necessary rest preparatory to battle, it 
was wisely considered more hazardous to be in such company, than 
to be alone. It was therefore determined to proceed rapidly forward 
by the aid of the oars, and to leave those thoughtless fellow-travel¬ 
lers behind. One of the boats, however, belonging to the fleet, 
commanded by a Captain Greathouse, adopted the same plan, and 
for a while kept up with Captain Hubbell, but all its crew at length 
falling asleep, that boat also ceased to be propelled by the oars, and 


428 


HUBBELL. 


Captain Hubbell and his party proceeded steadily forward done,. 
Early in the night a canoe was dimly seen floating down the river, 
in which were probably Indians reconnoitering, and other evident 
indications were observed of the neighborhood and hostile intentions 
of a formidable party of savages. 

It was now agreed, that should the attack, as was probable, be 
deferred till morning, every man should be up before the dawn, in 
order to make as great a show as possible of numbers and of strength; 
and that, whenever the action should take place, the women and 
children should lie down on the cabin floor, and be protected as well 
as they could by the trunks and other baggage, which might be 
placed around them. In this perilious situation they continued 
during the night, and the Captain, who had not slept more than one 
hour since he left Pittsburg, was too deeply impressed with the im¬ 
minent danger which surrounded him to obtain any rest at that time. 

Just as daylight began to appear in the east, and before the men 
were up and at their posts agreeably to arrangement, a voice at some 
distance below them in a plaintive tone repeatedly solicited them to 
come on shore, as there were some white persons who wished to 
obtain a passage in their boat. This the Captain very naturally and 
correctly concluded to be an Indian artifice, and its only effect was 
to rouse the men, and place every one on his guard. The voice of 
entreaty was soon changed into the language of indignation and in¬ 
sult, and the sound of distant paddles announced the approach of 
the savage foe. At length three Indian canoes were seen through 
the mist of the morning rapidly advancing. With the utmost cool¬ 
ness the captain and his companions prepared to receive them. 
The chairs, tables, and other incumbrances were thrown into the 
river, in order to clear the deck for action. Every man took his 
position, and was ordered not to fire till the savages had approached 
so near, that, (to use the words ol Captain Hubbell,) “ the flash 
from the guns might singe their eye-brows and a special caution 
was given, that the men should fire successively, so that there might 
be no interval. On the arrival of the canoes, they were found to 
contain about twenty-five or thirty Indians each. As soon as they 
had approached within the reach of musket shot, a general fire was 
given from one of them, which wounded Mr. Tucker through the 
hip so severely that his leg hung only by the flesh, and shot Mr. 
Light just below his ribs. The three canoes placed themselves at 
the bow, stern, and on the right side of the boat, so that they had an 
opportunity of raking in every direction. The fire now commenced 
from the boat, and had a powerful effect in checking the confidence 
and fury of the Indians. The Captain, after firing his own gun, 
took up that of one of the wounded men, raised it to his shoulder, 
and was about to discharge it, when a ball came and took away the 
lock; he coolly turned round, seized a brand of fire from the kettle 
which served for a caboose, and applying it to the pan, discharged 
the piece with effect. A very regular and constant fire was now 
kept up on both sides. The Captain was just in the act of raising 


HUBBELL. 


429 


his gun a third time, when a ball passed through his right arm, and 
for a moment disabled him. Scarcely had he recovered from the 
shock, and re-acquired the use of his hand, which had been suddenly 
drawn, up by the wound, when he observed the Indians in one of 
the canoes just about to board the boat in its bow, where the horses 
were placed belonging to the party. So near had they approached, 
that some of them had actually seized with their hands the side of 
the boat. Severely wounded as he was, he caught up a pair of 
horsemen's pistols and rushed forward to repel the attempt at board¬ 
ing. On his approach the Indians fell back, and he discharged a 
pistol with effect at the foremost man. After firing the second 
pistol, he found himseli without arms, and was compelled to retreat; 
but stepping hack upon a pile of small wood which had been pre¬ 
pared for burning in the kettle, the thought struck him, that it might 
be made use of in repelling the foe, and he continued for some time 
to strike them with it so forcibly and actively, that they were unable 
to enter the boat, and at length he wounded one of them so severely 
that with a yell they suddenly gave way. All the canoes then dis¬ 
continued the contest, and directed their course to Captain Great¬ 
house’s boat, which was in sight. Here a striking contrast was 
exhibited to the firmness and intrepidity which had been displayed. 
Instead of resisting the attack, the people on board of this boat 
retired to the cabin in dismay. The Indians entered it without 
opposition, and rowed it to the shore, where they killed the Captain 
and a lad of about fourteen years of age. The women they placed 
in the centre of their canoes, and manning them with fresh hands, 
again pursued Captain Hubbell and party. A melancholy alterna¬ 
tive now presented itself to these brave but almost desponding men, 
either to fall a prey to the savages themselves, or to run the risk of 
shooting the women, who had been placed in the canoes in the hope 
of deriving protection from their presence. But “ self preservation 
is the first law of nature,” and the Captain very justly remarked, 
there would not be much humanity in preserving their lives at such 
a sacrifice, merely that they might become victims of savage cruelty 
at some subsequent period. 

There were now but four men left on board of Captain Hubbell’s 
boat, capable of defending it, and the Captain himself was severely 
wounded in two places. The second attack, however, was resisted with 
almost incredible firmness and vigor. Whenever the Indians would 
rise to fire, their opponents would commonly give them the first 
shot, which in almost every instance would prove fatal. Notwith¬ 
standing the disparity of numbers, and the exhausted condition of 
the defenders of the boat, the Indians at length appeared to despair 
of success, and the canoes successively retired to the shore. Just 
as the last one was departing, Captain Hubbell called to the Indian, 
who was standing in the stern, and on his turning round, discharged 
his piece at him. When the smoke, which fora moment obstructed 
the vision, was dissipated, he was seen lying on his back, and 
appeared to be severely, perhaps mortally wounded. 


430 


HUBBELL. 


Unfortunately the boat now drifted near to the shore, where the 
Indians were collected, and a large concourse, probably between 
four and five hundred, were seen rushing down on the bank. Ray 
and Plascut, the only men remaining unhurt, were placed at the 
oars, and as the boat was not more than twenty yards from shore, it 
was deemed prudent for all to lie down in as safe a position as pos¬ 
sible, and attempt to push forward with the utmost practicable 
rapidity. While they continued in this situation, nine balls were 
shot into one oar, and ten into the other, without wounding the 
rowers, who were hidden from view, and protected by the side of 
the boat and the blankets in its stern. During this dreadful expo¬ 
sure to the fire of the savages, which continued about twenty min¬ 
utes, Mr. Kilpatrick observed a particular Indian, whom he thought 
a favorable mark for his rifle, and, notwithstanding the solemn 
warning of Captain Hubbell, rose to shoot him. He immediately 
received a bail in his mouth, which passed out at the back part of 
his head, and was almost at the same moment shot through the 
heart. He fell among the horses that about the same time were 
killed, and presented to his afflicted daughters and fellow-travellers, 
who were witness of the awful occurrence, a spectacle of horror 
which we need not further attempt to describe. 

The boat was now providentially and suddenly carried out into 
the middle of the stream, and taken by the current beyond the 
reach of the enemy’s balls. Our little band, reduced as they were 
in numbers, wounded, afflicted, and almost exhausted by fatigue, 
were still unsubdued in spirit, and being assembled in all their 
strength, men, women, and children, with an appearance of triumph 
gave three hearty cheers, calling to the Indians to come on again, if 
they were fond of the sport. 

Thus ended this awful conflict, in which out of nine men, two 
only escaped unhurt. Tucker and Kilpatrick were killed on the 
spot, Stoner was mortally wounded, and died on his arrival at Lime¬ 
stone, and all the rest, excepting Ray and Plascut, were severely 
wounded. The women and children were all uninjured, excepting 
a little son of Mr. Plascut, who, after the battle was over, came to 
the Captain, and with great coolness requested him to take a ball 
out of his head. On examination, it appeared that a bullet which 
had passed through the side of the boat, had penetrated the forehead 
of this little hero, and remained under the skin. The Captain took 
it out, and the youth, observing, “that is not all” raised his arm, 
and exhibited a piece of bone at the point of his elbow, which had 
been shot off, and hung only by the skin. His mother exclaimed, 
“ why did you not tell me of this ?” “ Because,” he coolly replied, 
“ the Captain directed us to be silent during the action, and I thought 
you would be likely to make a noise if I told you.” 

The boat made the best of its way down the river, and the object 
was to reach Limestone that night. The Captain’s arm had bled 
profusely, and he was compelled to close the sleeve of his coat, in 
order to retain the blood and stop its effusion. In this situation, 


HUBBELL. 


431 


tormented by excrutiating pain, and faint through loss of blood, he 
was under the necessity of steering the boat with the left arm, till 
about ten o’clock that night, when he was relieved by Mr. William 
Brooks, who resided on the bank of the river, and who was induced 
by the calls of the suffering party to come out to their assistance. 
By his aid and that of some other persons who were in the same 
manner brought to their relief, they were enabled to reach Limestone 
about twelve o’clock that night. 

Immediately on the arrival of Mr. Brooks, Captain Hubbell, re¬ 
lieved from labor and responsibility, sunk under the weight of pain 
and fatigue, and became for a while totally insensible. When the 
boat reached Limestone, he found himself unable to walk, and was 
obliged to be carried up to the tavern. Here he had his wound 
dressed, and continued for several days, until he acquired sufficient 
strength to proceed homewards. 

On the arrival of the party at Limestone, they found a considera¬ 
ble force of armed men, about to march against the same Indians, 
from whose attacks they had so severely suffered. They now 
learned, that the Sunday preceding, the same party of savages had 
cut off a detachment of men ascending the Ohio from fort Wash¬ 
ington, at the mouth of Licking river, and had killed with their 
tomahawks, without firing a gun, twenty-one out of twenty-two 
men, of which the. detachment consisted. 

Crowds of people, as might be expected, came lo witness the 
boat which had been the scene of so much heroism, and such hor¬ 
rid carnage, and to visit the resolute little band by whom it had 
been so gallantly and perseveringly defended. On examination, it 
was found that the sides of the boat were literally filled with bullets 
and with bullet holes. There was scarcely a space of two feet 
square in the part above water, which had not either a ball remain¬ 
ing in it, or a hole through which a ball had passed. Some persons 
who had the curiosity to count the number of holes in the blankets, 
which were hung up as curtains in the stern of the boat, affirmed 
that in the space of five feet sqnare, there were one hundred and 
twenty-two. Four horses out of five were killed, and the escape of 
the fifth amidst such a show'er of balls appears almost miraculous. 

The day after the arrival of Captain Hubbell and his companions, 
the five remaining boats, which they had passed on the night pre¬ 
ceding the battle, reached Limestone. Those on board remarked, 
that during the action they distinctly saw the flashes, but could not 
hear the "reports of the guns. The Indians, it appears, had met 
with too formidable a resistance from a single boat, to attack a fleet, 
and suffered them to pass unmolested: and since that lime, it is be¬ 
lieved that no boat has been assailed by Indians on the Ohio. 

The force which marched out to disperse this formidable body of 
savages, discovered several Indians dead on the shore near the scene 
of action. They also found the bodies of Captain Greathouse and 
several others, men, women, and children, who had been on board 
of his boat. Most of them appeared to have been whipped to death , 
37 


432 


THE JOHNSONS. 


as they were found stripped, tied to trees, and marked with the ap¬ 
pearance of lashes, and large rods, which seemed to have been worn 
with use, were observed lying near them. 


THE JOHNSONS. 

Early in the spring of ’93, two boys by the name of Johnson, 
the one twelve, and the other nine years of age, were playing on the 
banks of Short Creek, near the mouth of the Muskingum, and occa¬ 
sionally skipping stones in the water. At a distance, they beheld 
two men, dressed like ordinary settlers, in hats and coats, who 
gradually approached them, and from time to time, threw stones 
into the water, in imitation of the children. At length, when within 
one hundred yards of the boys, they suddenly threw off the mask, 
and rushing rapidly upon them, made them prisoners. They prov¬ 
ed to be Indians of the Delaware tribe. Taking the children in their 
arms, they ran hastily into the woods, and after a rapid march of 
about six miles, encamped for the night. Having kindled a fire and 
laid their rifles and tomahawks against an adjoining tree, they lay 
down to rest, each with a boy in his arms. The children, as may 
readily be supposed, were too much agitated to sleep. The eldest 
at length began to move his limbs cautiously, and finding that the 
Indian who held him remained fast asleep, he gradually disengaged 
himself from his arms, and walking to the fire which had burned 
low, remained several minutes in suspense, as to what was next to 
be done. Having stirred the fire, and ascertained by its light the 
exact position of the enemy’s arms, he whispered softly to his 
brother to imitate his example, and if possible, extricate himself 
from his keeper. The little fellow did as his brother directed, and 
both stood irresolute for several minutes around the fire. At length 
the eldest, who was of a very resolute disposition, proposed that 
they should kill the sleeping Indians, and return home. The eldest 
pointed to one of the guns, and assured his brother that if he would 
only pull the trigger of that gun after he had placed it in rest, he 
would answer for the other Indian. The plan was soon agreed 
upon. The rifle was levelled with the muzzle resting upon a log 
which lay near, and having stationed his brother at the breach, with 
positive directions not to touch the trigger until he gave the word, 
he seized a tomahawk and advanced cautiously to the other sleeper. 
Such was the agitation of the younger, however, that he touched 
the trigger too soon, and the report of his gun awakened the other 
Indian before his brother was quite prepared. He struck the blow, 
however, with firmness, although, in the hurry of the act, it was 
done with the blunt part of the hatchet, and only stunned his anta¬ 
gonist. Quickly repeating the blow, however, with the edge, he 
inflicted a deep wound upon the Indian’s head, and after repeated 
strokes, left him lifeless upon the spot. The younger, frightened at 
the explosion of his own gun, had already betaken himself to his 



THE LOST SISTER. 


433 


heels, and was with difficulty overtaken by his brother. Having 
regained the road by which they had advanced, the elder fixed his 
hat upon a bush, in order to mark the spot, and by day-light they 
regained their homes. They found their mother in an agony of 
grief for their loss, and ignorant, whether they had been drowned 
or taken by the Indians. Their tale was heard with astonishment, 
not unmingled with incredulity, and a few of the neighbors insisted 
upon accompanying them to the spot, where so extraordinary a ren¬ 
contre had occurred. The place was soon found, and the truth of 
the boys’ story placed beyond doubt. The tomahawked Indian lay 
in his blood, where he fell, but the one who had been shot, was not 
to be found. A broad trail of blood, however, enabled them to trace 
his footsteps, and he was at length overtaken. Ilis appearance was 
most ghastly. His under jaw had been entirely shot away, and his 
hands and breast were covered with clotted blood. Although evi¬ 
dently much exhausted, he still kept his pursuers at bay, and faced 
them from time to time, with an air of determined resolution. Either 
his gory appearance, or the apprehension that more were in the 
neighborhood, had such an effect upon his pursuers, that notwith¬ 
standing their numbers, he was permitted to escape. Whether he 
survived or perished in the wilderness, could never be ascertained, 
but from the severity of the wound, the latter supposition is most 
probable. 


THE LOST SISTER. 

VALLEY OF WYOMING.* 

After the battle and massacre, most of the settlers fled. But 
here and there a few stragglers returned from the mountains or wil¬ 
derness, and in the course of three or four months, other cabins 
were going up over the ashes of their former homes, and quite a 
little neighborhood was collected. But the Indians kept prowling 
around on the mountains, now descending here and now there, kil¬ 
ling this family, scalping that, or making it captive. At a little dis¬ 
tance from the present Court House of Wilkesbarre, lived a family 
by the name of Slocum, upon whom the visitations of the Indians’ 
cruelties were awfully severe. The men were one day away in the 
fields, and in an instant the house was surrounded by Indians. 
There were in it, the mother, the daughter about nine years of age, 
a son aged thirteen, another daughter, aged five, and a little boy aged 


* At page 199 of this volume, will be found a brief account of the dreadful mas- 
sacre of settlers upon the Wyoming flats, in 1778, since the printing of which, 
the following interesting sketch has come under our notice.—Like many other of 
the remarkable events herein recorded, it carries with it much of the appcaranc^ 
of fictitious romance, and yet may be relied on as substantially true. The lott^ 
to which the writer alludes, was published in the Lancaster Intelligencer, in 18 r 
and was the means of leading the Slocum family, now residing in Luzerne co ,rt *» 
ty, Penna., to the discovery of their sister, who had been lost for sixty years, illd 



434 


THE LOST SISTER. 


two and a half. A young man and a boy by the name of Kingsly, 
were present grinding a knife. The first thing the Indians did, was 
to shoot down the young man, and scalp him with the knife which 
he had in his hand. The nine year old sister took the little boy 
two years and a half old, and ran out of the door to get back to the 
fort. The Indians chased her just enough to see her fright; and to 
have a hearty laugh as she ran and clung to and lifted her chubby 
little brother.—They then took the Kingsley boy and young Slocum, 
aged thirteen, and little Frances, aged five, and prepared to depart. 
But finding young Slocum lame, at the entreaties of the mother, 
they sat him down and left him. Their captives were then young 
Kingsley and the little girl. The mother’s heart swelled unutter¬ 
ably, and for years she could not describe the scene without tears. 
She saw an Indian throw her child over his shoulder, and as her 
hair fell over her face, with one hand she brushed it aside, while the 
tears fell from her distended eye, and stretching out her other hand 
towards her mother, she called for her aid. The Indian turned into 
the bushes, and this was the last seen of little Frances. This image 
probably was carried by the mother to her grave. About a month 
after this they came again, and with the most awful cruelties, mur¬ 
dered the aged grand-father, and shot a ball in the leg of the lame 
boy. This he carried with him in his leg nearly sixty years, to the 
grave. The last child was born a few months after these tragedies! 
What were the conversations, what were the conjectures, what were 
the hopes and the fears respecting the fate of the little Frances, I will 
not attempt describe. Probably the children saw that in all after life, 
the heart of the stricken mother was yearning for the little one 
whose fate was uncertain, and whose face she could never see again. 

As the boys grew up and became men, they were very anxious to 
know the fate of their little fair-haired sister. They wrote letters, they 
sent inquiries, they made journeys through all the west and into the 
Canadas, if peradventure they might learn anything respecting her 
fate. Four of these long journeys were made in vain. A silence 
deep as that of the deepest forest through which they wandered hung 
over her fate and that for sixty years. 

My reader will now pass oyer fifty-eight years from the time of 
this captivity, and suppose himself far in the wilderness, in the 
farthest part of Indiana. A very respectable agent of the United 
States is travelling there, and weary and belated, with a tired horse, 
he stops at an Indian wigwam for the night. He can speak the In¬ 
dian language. The family are rich, for Indians have horses and 
skins in abundance. In the course of the evening he notices that the 
hair of the woman is light, and her skin, under her dress, is also 
white. She told him she was a white child, but had been carried 
c away when a very small girl. She could only remember that her 
g^iame was Slocum, that she lived in a little house on the banks of 
in Ue Susquehanna, and how many there were in her father’s family, 
strod the order of their ages ! But the name of the town she could 
the t remember. On reaching his home, the agent mentioned thi3 


THE LOST SISTER. 


435 


story to his mother, she urged and pressed him to write and print 
the account. Accordingly he wrote and sent it to Lancaster, of this 
state, requesting that it might be published. By some, to me un¬ 
accountable blunder, it lay in the office two years belore it was 
printed. But last summer it was published. In a few days it fell 
into the hands of Mr. Slocum, of Wilkesbarre, who was the little 
two and a half years old boy, when Frances was taken. In a few 
days he was off to seek his sister, taking with him his oldest sister, 
(the one who aided him to escape) writing to a brother who now 
lives in Ohio, and who I believe was born after the captivity, to 
meet him and go with him. 

The two brothers and sister are now (1838) on their way to see 
little Frances, just sixty years after her captivity. After travelling 
more than three hundred miles through the wilderness, they reached 
the Indian country, the home of the Miami Indian. Nine miles 
from the nearest white, they find the little wigwam. “I shall know 
my sister,” said the civilized sister, because she lost the nail of her 
first finger. You, brother, hammered it off in the black-smith shop 
when she was four years old.”—They go into the cabin and find an 
Indian woman having the appearance of seventy-five. She is paint¬ 
ed and jewelled off, and dressed like the Indians in all respects. 
Nothing but her hair and covered skin, would indicate her origin. 
They get an interpeter and begin to converse. She tells them where 
she was born, her name, &c., with the order of her father’s family. 
“ How came your nail gone?” said the oldest sister. “ My older 
brother pounded it off when I was a little child, in the shop !” In 
a word, they were satisfied that this was Frances, their long lost 
sister! They asked her what her Christian name was. She could 
not remember. Was it Frances? She smiled and said “ yes.” It 
was the first time she had heard it pronounced for sixty years ! 
Here, then, they were met—two brothers and two sisters ! They 
were ail satisfied they were brothers and sisters. But what a con¬ 
trast! The brothers were walking the cabin unable to speak; the 
oldest sister was weeping, but the poor Indian sat motionless and 
passionless—as indifferent as a spectator. There was no throbbing, 
no fine chords in her bosom to be touched. 

When Mr. Slocum was giving me this history, I said to him, 
4 ‘ but could she not speak English !” “ Not a word.” “ Did she 

know her age ?” 44 No—had no idea of it.” “ But was she entirely 
ignorant?” “ Sir, she didn’t know when Sunday comes !” This 
was indeed the consummation of ignorance in a descendant of the 
Puritans ! 

But what a picture for a painter would the inside of that cabin 
have afforded ! Here were the children of civilization, respecta¬ 
ble, temperate, intelligent and wealthy, able to overcome mountains 
to recover their sister. There was the child of the forest, not able 
to tell the day of the week, whose views and feelings were all con¬ 
fined to their cabin. Her whole history might be told in a word. 
She lived with the Delawares who carried her off, till grown up, aud 
37 * 


43G 


THE LOST SISTER. 


then married a Delaware. He either died or run away, and she 
then married a Miami Indian, a Chief as I believe. She had two 
daughters, both of whom are married and live in the glory of an In¬ 
dian cabin, skin cloths, and cow skin head dresses. Not one of the 
family can speak a word of English. They have horses in abun¬ 
dance, and when the Indian sister wanted to accompany her new 
relatives, she whipped out, bridled her horse, and then a la Turk , 
mounted astride and was off. At night she could throw a blanket 
around her, down upon the floor, and at once be asleep. 

The brothers, and sister tried to persuade their lost sister to return 
with them, and if she desired it, bring her children. They would 
transplant her again on the banks of the Susquehanna, and of their 
wealth make her home happy. But no. They had always been 
kind to her, and she had promised her late husband on his death¬ 
bed, that she would never leave the Indians. And there they left 
her and hers, wild and darkened heathens, though they sprung from 
a pious race. You can hardly imagine how much this brother is 
interested for her. He says he intends this autumn to go again that 
long journey to see his tawny sister—to carry her some presents, 
and perhaps will go and petition Congress that if ever these Miamis 
are driven off, there may be a tract of land reserved for his sister and 
her descendants. His heart yearns with an indescribable tenderness 
for the helpless one, who, sixty-one years ago, was torn from the 
arms of her mother. Mysterious Providence ! How wonderful the 
tie which can thus bind a family together with a chain so strong that 
nothing can break its links ! 

I will only add, that nothing has ever been heard of the boy 
Kingsley. The probability certainly is, that he is not living. This 
account, hastily and imperfectly given, I had from the lips of Mr. 
Slocum, the brother, and the same who was two and a-half years old 
when little Frances was carried away. I believe I have altered 
nothing, though I have omitted enough to make the good part of an 
interesting volume. 


WAR Ii\ THE AORTH-WEST. 


GEN. HARMAR. 

Heretofore our narratives have chiefly been confined to the 
adventures of individuals, or at most, to the irregular forays of 
independent volunteers. We come now, however, to events upon a 
large scale, and to a detail of national, not individual efforts. Before 
entering, however, upon such a brief notice as our limits will permit, 
of the events of the north-western campaign, it will be necessary to 
premise a few observations upon the causes of the long continued 
warfare to which the western states were exposed, while those upon 
the borders of the Atlantic enjoyed all the blessings of peace. 

At the general pacification of 1783, there were several stipulations 
upon both sides, which were not complied with. Great Britain had 
agreed, as speedily as possible, to evacuate all the north western 
posts, which lay within the boundaries of the United States, while, 
on the other hand, Congress had stipulated that no legal impedi¬ 
ments should be thrown in the way, in order to prevent the collec¬ 
tion of debts due to British merchants before the declaration of war. 
Large importations had been made by American merchants, upon 
credit , in ’73 and ’74, and as all civil intercourse between the two 
countries had ceased until the return of peace, the British creditors 
were unable to collect their debts. Upon the final ratification of the 
treaty, they naturally became desirous of recovering their property, 
while their debtors as naturally were desirous of avoiding payment. 
Congress had stipulated that no legal barrier should be thrown in 
the way; but as is well known, Congress, under the old confede¬ 
ration, was much more prolific in “ resolutions,” or rather “ recom¬ 
mendations,” than acts. The states might or might not comply 
with them, as suited their convenience. Accordingly, when Con¬ 
gress recommended the payment of all debts to the state legislatures, 
the legislatures determined that it was inexpedient to comply. The 
British creditor complained to his government, the government re¬ 
monstrated with Congress upon so flagrant a breach of one of the 
articles of pacification, Congress appealed to the legislatures, the 
legislatures were deaf and obstinate, and there the matter rested.— 
"When the questiou was agitated, as to the evacuation of the posts, 



438 


HARMAR. 


the British, in turn, became refractory, and determined to hold them 
until the acts of the state legislatures, preventing the legal collection 
of debts, were repealed. Many remonstrances were exchanged, but 
all to no purpose. 

In the mean time, the Indians were supplied, as usual, by the 
British agents, and if not openly encouraged, were undoubtedly 
secretly countenanced in their repeated depredations upon the fron¬ 
tier inhabitants. These at length became so serious, as to demand 
the notice of government. Accordingly, in the autumn of 1790, 
General Harmar was detatchcd at the head of three hundred regular 
troops, and more than one thousand militia, with orders to march 
upon their towns bordering upon the lakes, and inflict upon them 
such signal chastisement as should deter them from future depreda¬ 
tions. On the 20th of September, the various troops designed for 
the expedition, rendezvoused at Fort Washington, now Cincinnati, 
and on the following day commenced their march to the Miami 
villages. The country was rough, swampy, and in many places 
almost impassable, so that seventeen days were consumed before the 
main body could come within striking distance of the enemy. In 
the mean time, the great scarcity of provisions rendered it necessary 
for the general to sweep the forest with numerous small detachments, 
and as the woods swarmed with roving bands of Indians, most of 
these parties were cut off. 

At length the main body, considerably reduced by this petty war¬ 
fare, came within a few miles of their towns. Mere the General 
ordered Captain Armstrong, at the head of thirty regulars, and Col. 
Harden of Kentucky, with one hundred and fifty militia, to advance 
and reconnoitre. In the execution of this order they suddenly found 
themselves in the presence of a superior number of Indians, who 
arose from the bushes and opened a heavy fire upon them. The 
militia soon gave way, while the regulars, accustomed to more 
orderly movements, attempted a regular retreat. The enemy rushed 
upon them tomahawk in hand and completely surrounded them.— 
The regulars attempted to open a passage with the bayonet, but in 
vain. They were all destroyed with the exception of their captain 
and one lieutenant. Captain Armstrong was remarkably stout and 
active, and succeeded in breaking through the enemy’s line, although 
not without receiving several severe wounds. Finding himself hard 
pressed, he plunged into a deep and miry swamp, where he lay 
concealed during the whole night within two hundred yards of the 
Indian camp, and witnessed the dances and joyous festivity with 
which they celebrated their victory. The lieutenant, (Haitshorn,) 
escaped by accidentally stumbling over a log, and falling into a pit 
where he lay concealed by the rank grass which grew around him. 
The loss of militia was very trifling. Notwithstanding this severe 
check, Harmar advanced with the main body upon their villages, 
which he found deserted and in flames, the Indians having fired 
them with their own hands. Here he found several hundred acres 
of corn, which was completely destroyed. He then advanced upon 


HARMAR. 


439 


the adjoining villages, which he found deserted and burned as the 
first had been. Having destroyed all the corn which he found, the 
army commenced their retreat from the Indian country, supposing 
the enemy sufficiently intimidated. After marching about ten miles 
on the homeward route, Gen. Harmar received information which 
induced him to suppose that a body of Indians had returned and 
taken possession of the village which he had just left. He detached, 
therefore, eighty regular troops, under the orders of Major Wyllys, 
and nearly the whole of his militia under Col. Harden, with orders 
to return to the villages and destroy such of the enemy as presented 
themselves. The detachment accordingly countermarched and 
proceeded with all possible despatch to the appointed spot, fear¬ 
ful only that the enemy might hear of their movement and escape 
before they could come up. The militia, in loose order, took the 
advance—the regulars, moving in a hollow square, brought up the 
rear. Upon the plain in front of the town a number of Indians were 
seen, between whom and the militia a sharp action commenced.— 
After a few rounds, with considerable effect on both sides, the sava¬ 
ges fled in disorder and were eagerly and impetuously pursued by 
the militia, who in the ardor of the chase were drawn into the woods 
a considerable distance from the regulars. Suddenly from the oppo¬ 
site quarter several hundred Indians appeared, rushing with loud 
yells upon the unsupported regulars. Major Wyllys, who was a 
brave and experienced officer, formed his men in a square, and en¬ 
deavored to gain a more favorable spot of ground, but was prevented 
by the desperate impetuosity with which the enemy assailed him. 
Unchecked by the murderous fire which was poured upon them 
from the different sides of the square, they rushed in masses up to 
the points of the bayonets, hurled their tomahawks with fatal accu¬ 
racy, and putting aside the bayonets with their hands, or clogging 
them with their bodies, they were quickly mingled with the troops, 
and handled their long knives with destructive effect. In two min¬ 
utes the bloody struggle was over. Major Wyllys fell, together with 
seventy three privates and one lieutenant. One captain, one ensign 
and seven privates, three of whom were wounded, were the sole 
survivors of this short but desperate encounter. The Indian loss 
was nearly equal, as they sustained several heavy fires, which the 
closeness of their masses rendered very destructive, and as they 
rushed upon the bayonets of the troops with the most astonishing 
disregard to their own safety. Their object was to everwhelm the 
regulars before the militia could return to their support, and it was 
as boldly executed as it had been finely conceived. In a short time 
the militia returned from the pursuit of the flying party which had 
decoyed them to a distance, but it was now too late to retrieve the 
fortune of the day. After some sharp skirmishing, they effected 
their retreat to the main body, with the loss of one hundred and 
eight killed and twenty eight wounded. This dreadful slaughter so 
reduced the strength and spirits of Harmar’s army, that he was 
happy in being permitted to retreat unmolested, having totally failed 


440 


ST. CLAIR. 


in accomplishing the objects of the expedition, and by obstinately 
persevering in the ruinous plan of acting in detachments, having 
thrown away the lives of more than half of his regular force. This 
abortive expedition served only to encourage the enemy and to give 
additional rancor to their incursions. 


GEN. ST. CLAIR. 

We now come to one of the heaviest disasters which occurs in 
the annals of Indian warfare. The failure of Harmar made a deep 
impression upon the American nation, and was followed by a loud 
demand for a greater force, under the command of a more experien¬ 
ced general. General Arthur St. Clair was, at that time, Governor 
of the north western territory, and had a claim to the command of 
such forces as should be employed within his own limits. This 
gentleman had uniformly ranked high as an officer of courage and 
patriotism, but had been more uniformly unfortunate than any other 
officer in the American service. He had commanded at Ticonderoga 
in the spring of ’77, and had conducted one of the mostidisastrous 
retreats which occurred during the revolutionary war. Notwith¬ 
standing his repeated misfortunes, he still commanded the respect of 
his brother officers, and the undiminished confidence of Washington. 
He was now selected as the person most capable of restoring the 
American affairs in the north west, and was placed at the head of a 
regular force, amounting to near fifteen hundred men, well furnished 
with artillery, and was empowered to call out such reinforcements 
of militia as might be necessary. Cincinnati, as usual, was the place 
of rendezvous. 

In October, 1791, an army was assembled at that place, greatly 
superior in numbers, officers and equipments, to any which had yet 
appeared in the west. The regular force was composed of three 
complete regiments of infantry, two companies of artillery and one 
of cavalry. The militia who joined him at fort Washington, 
amounted to upwards of six hundred men, most of whom had long 
been accustomed to Indian warfare. The general commenced his 

inarch from Cincinnati on the-of October, and following the 

route of Harmar, arrived at fort Jefferson without material loss, 
although not without having sustained much inconvenience from 
scarcity of provisions. The Kentucky rangers, amounting to up¬ 
wards of two hundred men, had encountered several small parties of 
Indians, but no serious affair had as yet taken place. Shortly after 
leaving fort Jefferson, one of the militia regiments, with their usual 
regard to discipline, determined that it was inexpedient to proceed 
farther, and detached themselves from the main body, and returned 
rapidly to the fort on their way home. This ill-timed mutiny not 
only discouraged the remainder, but compelled the General to de¬ 
tach the first regiment in pursuit of them, if not to bring them back, 
at least to prevent them from injuring the stores collected at the fort 




ST. CLAIR. 


441 


for the use of the army. With the remainder of the troops, amount¬ 
ing in all to about twelve hundred men, he continued his march to 
the great Miami villages. 

On the evening of the 3d of November, he encamped upon a very 
commanding piece of ground, upon the bank of a small tributary 
stream of the Wabash, (and not the St. Mary’s, as Gen. St. Clair 
supposes in his official letter,) where he determined to throw up 
some slight works for the purpose of protecting their knapsacks and 
baggage, having to move upon the Miami villages, supposed to be 
within twelve miles, as soon as the first regiment should rejoin 
them. The remainder of the evening was employed in concerting 
the plan of the proposed work with Major Furguson of the engineers, 
and when the centries were posted at night, every thing was as quiet 
as could have been desired. The troops were encamped in two 
lines, with an interval of seventy yards between them, which was 
all that the nature of the ground would permit. The battallions of 
Majors Butler, Clarke and Patterson, composed the front line, the 
whole under the orders of Major General Butler, an officer of high 
and merited reputation. The front of the line was covered by a 
creek, its right flank by the river, and its left by a strong corps of 
infantry. The second line was composed of the battalions of Majors 
Gaither and Bedinger, and the second regiment under the command 
of Lieut. Col. Darke. This line, like the other, was secured upon 
one flank by the river, and upon the other by the cavalry and 
pickets.* The night passed away without alarm. The sentinels 
were vigilant,! and the officers upon the alert. 

A few hours before day, St. Clair caused the reveillie to be beaten 
and the troops to be paraded under arms, under the expectation that 
an attack would probably be made. In this situation they continued 
until daylight, when they were dismissed to their tents. Some 
were endeavoring to snatch a few minutes’ sleep, others were pre¬ 
paring for the expected march, when suddenly the report of a rifle 
was heard from the militia a few hundred )*ards in front, which was 
quickly followed by a sharp irregular volley in the same direction. 
The drums instantly beat to arms, the officers flew in every direc¬ 
tion, and in two minutes the troops were formed in order of battle. 
Presently the militia rushed into the camp, in the utmost disorder, 
closely pursued by swarms of Indians, who, in many places, were 
mingled with them, and were cutting them down with their toma¬ 
hawks. Major Butler’s battalion received the first shock, and was 

* The militia amounting to about two hundred and fifty men, were thrown across 
the creek about three hundred yards in front of the first line, and a small detach¬ 
ment of regulars under the orders of Captain Slough, were pushed still further 
in advance in order to prevent the posibility of surprize. 

t Captain Slough was alarmed in the course of the night by the appearance of 
an unusual number of the enemy in his front and upon both flanks. A short 
time before day they had collected in such numbers as seriously to alarm him, 
and induced him to fall back upon the militia. He instantly informed General 
Butler of the circumstance, but that officer, unfortunately, slighted the intelligence 
and did not deem it of sufficient importance, to inform the commander in chief. 


442 


ST. CLAIR. 


thrown into disorder by the tumultuous flight of the militia, who, in 
their eagerness to escape, bore down every thing before them.— 
Here Major General Butler had stationed himself, and here St. Clair 
directed his attention, in order to remedy the confusion that began 
to spread rapidly through the whole line. The Indians pressed for¬ 
ward with great audacity, and many of them were mingled with the 
troops, before their progress could be checked. Major General 
Butler was wounded at the first fire, and before his wound could be 
dressed, an Indian who had penetrated the ranks of the regiment, 
ran up to the spot where he lay, and tomahawed him before his 
attendants could interpose. The desperate savage was instantly 
killed. By great exertions, Butler’s battalion was restored to order, 
and the heavy and sustained fire of the first line compelled the ene¬ 
my to pause and shelter themselves. This interval, however, en¬ 
dured but for a moment. An invisible but tremendous fire quickly 
opened upon the whole front of the encampment, which rapidly ex¬ 
tended to the rear, and encompassed the troops on both sides. St. 
Clair, who at that time was worn down by a fever, and unable to 
mount his horse, nevertheless, as is universally admitted, exerted 
himself with a courage and presence of mind worthy of a better fate. 
He directed his litter to the right of the rear line, where the great 
weight of fire fell, and where the slaughter, particularly of the offi¬ 
cers, was terrible. Here Darke commanded, an officer who had 
been trained to hard service, during the revolutionary war, and who 
was now gallantly exerting himself to check the consternation which 
was evidently beginning to prevail. St. Clair ordered him to make 
a rapid charge with the bayonet, and rouse the enemy from their 
covert. The order was instantly obeyed, and, at first, apparently 
with great effect. Swarms of dusky bodies arose from the high 
grass, and fled before the regiment with every mark of consternation, 
but as the troops were unable to overtake them, they quickly recov¬ 
ered their courage, and kept up so fatal a retreating fire, that the 
exhausted regulars were compelled, in their turn, to give way.— 
This charge, however, relieved that particular point for some time ; 
but the weight of the fire was transferred to the centre of the first 
line, where it threatened to annihilate every thing within its range. 
There, in turn, the unfortunate general was borne by his attendants, 
and ordered a second appeal to the bayonet. This second charge 
was made with the same impetuosity as at first, and with the same 
momentary success. But the attack was quickly shifted to another 
point, where the same charge was made and the same result follow¬ 
ed. The Indians would retire before them, still keeping up a most 
fatal fire, and the continentals were uniformly compelled to retire in 
turn. St. Clair brought up the artillery in order to sweep the bushes 
with grape, but the horses and artillerymen were destroyed by the 
terrible fire of the enemy, before any effect could be produced.— 
They were instantly manned afresh from the infantry, and again 
swept of defenders. 


8T. CLAIR. 


443 


The slaughter had now become prodigious. Four fifths of the 
officers and one half of the men were either killed or wounded. The 
ground was covered with bodies, and the little ravine which led to 
the river was running with blood. The fire of the enemy had not 
in the least slackened, and the troops were falling in heaps before it 
in every part of the camp. To have attempted to have maintained 
his position longer, could only have lead to the total destruction of 
his force, without the possibility of annoying the enemy, who never 
showed themselves, unless when charged, and whose numbers (to 
judge from the weight and extent of the fire,) must have considerably 
exceeded his own. The men were evidently much dishearted, but 
the officers, who were chiefly veterans of the revolution, still main¬ 
tained a firm countenance, and exerted themselves with unavailing 
heroism to the last. Under these circumstances, St. Clair determined 
to save the lives of the survivors, if possible, and for that purpose 
collected the remnants of several battalions into one corps, at the 
head of which he ordered Lieut. Col. Darke to make an impetuous 
charge upon the enemy, in order to open a passage for the remainder 
of the army. Darke executed his orders with great spirit, and drove 
the Indians before him to the distance of a quarter of a mile. The 
remainder of the army instantly rushed through the opening, in 
order to gain the road. Major Clarke, with the remnant of his bat¬ 
talion, bringing up the rear, and endeavoring to keep the Indians in 
check.* 

The retreat soon degenerated into a total rout. Officers who 
strove to arrest the panic, only sacrificed themselves. Clarke, the 
leader of the rear guard, soon fell in this dangerous service, and his 
corps were totally disorganized. Officers and soldiers were now 
mingled without the slightest regard to discipline, and “ devil take 
the hindmost/’ was the order of the day. The pursuit, at first, was 
keen ; but the temptation afforded by the plunder of the camp, soon 
brought them back, and the wearied, wounded, and disheartened 
fugitives, were permitted to retire from the field unmolested. The 
rout continued as far as fort Jefferson, twenty-nine miles from the 
scene of action. The action lasted more than three hours, during 
the whole of which time the fire was heavy and incessant. 

The loss in proportion to the number engaged, was enormous, and 
is unparalleled, except in the affair of Braddock. Sixty-eight offi¬ 
cers were killed upon the spot, and twenty-eight wounded. Out of 
nine hundred privates who went into action, five hundred and fifty 
were left dead upon the field, and many of the survivors were woun¬ 
ded. Gen. St. Clair was untouched, although eight balls passed 
through his hat and clothes, and several horses were killed under 
him. The Indian loss was reported by themselves at fifty-eight 
killed and wounded, which was probably not underrated, as they 
were never visible after the first attack, until charged with the bayo- 

* General St. Clair’s horses were killed as well as those of his aids. He was 
placed by a few friends upon an exhausted pack horse that could not be pricked 
out of a walk, and in this condition followed in the rear of the troops. 

38 


444 


INCIDENTS. 


net. The number of Indians engaged in this battle is estimated at 
from twelves to fifteen hundred, nearly the whole force of the north¬ 
western tribes having been assembled. They were doubtless con¬ 
siderably more numerous than the force opposed to them, as, in a 
very few minutes after the first fire, the whole camp was surrounded 
and swept by a fire which the oldest officers had never seen equalled 
in weight and duration. At fort Jefferson, the fugitives were joined 
by the first regiment, who, as noticed above, had been detached in 
pursuit of the deserters. Here a council of war was called, which 
terminated in the unanimous opinion, that the junction of the first 
regiment did not justify an attempt upon the enemy in the present 
condition of affairs, and that the army should return to fort Wash¬ 
ington without delay. This was accordingly done, and thus closed 
the second campaign against the Indians. 


PRIVATE INCIDENTS CONNECTED WITH ST. CLAIk’s DEFEAT. 

The late William Kennan, of Fleming county, Ky., at that time 
a young man of eighteen, was attached to the corps of rangers who 
accompanied the regular force. lie had long been remarkable for 
strength and activity. In the course of the march from fort Wash¬ 
ington, he had repealed opportunities of testing his astonishing 
powders in that respect, and was universally admitted to be the swift¬ 
est runner of the light corps. On the evening preceding the action, 
his corps had been advanced, as already observed, a few hundred 
yards in front of the first line of infantry, in order to give seasonable 
notice of the enemy’s approach. Just as day was dawning, he ob¬ 
served about thirty Indians within one hundred yards of the guard 
fire, advancing cautiously towards the spot where he stood, together 
with about twenty rangers, the rest being considerably in the rear. 
Supposing it to be a mere scouting party, as usual, and not superior 
in number to the rangers, he sprung forward a few paces in order to 
shelter himself in a spot of peculiarly rank grass, and firing with a 
quick aim upon the foremost Indian, he instantly fell flat upon his 
face, and proceeded with all possible rapidity to reload his gun, not 
doubting for a moment, but that the rangers would maintain their 
position, and support him. The Indians, however, rushed forward 
in such overwhelming masses, that the rangers were compelled to 
fly with precipitation, leaving young Kennan in total ignorance of 
his danger. Fortunately, the captain of his company had observed 
him when he threw himself in the grass, and suddenly shouted 
aloud, “ Run, Kennan ! or you are a dead man ! ” He instantly 
sprung to his feet and beheld Indians within ten feet of him, while 
his company was already more than one hundred yards in front.— 
Not a moment was to be lost. He darted off with every muscle 
strained to its utmost, and was pursued by a dozen of the enemy 
with loud yells. He at first pressed straight forward to the usual 
lording place in the creek, which ran between the rangers and the 



INCIDENTS. 


445 


main army, but several Indians who had passed him before he arose 
from the grass, threw themselves in the way, and completely cut 
him off from the rest. By the most powerful exertions, he had 
thrown the whole body of pursuers behind him, with the exception 
of one young chief, (probably Messhawa,) who displayed a swift¬ 
ness and perseverance equal to his own. In the circuit which Ken- 
nan was obliged to take, the race continued for more than four hun¬ 
dred yards. The distance between them was about eighteen feet, 
which Kennan could not increase nor his adversary dimininish.— 
Each, for the time, put his whole soul into the race. Kennan, as 
far as he was able, kept his eye upon the motions of his pursuer, 
lest he should throw the tomahawk, which he held aloft in a mena¬ 
cing attitude, and at length, finding that no other Indian was imme¬ 
diately at hand, he determined to try the mettle of his pursuer in a 
different manner, and felt for his tomahawk in order to turn at bay. 
It had escaped from its sheath, however, while he lay in the grass, 
and his hair almost lifted his cap from his head, when he saw 
himself totally disarmed. As he had slackened his pace for a mo¬ 
ment the Indian was almost in reach of him, when he recommenced 
the race, but the idea of being without arms, lent wings to his flight, 
and for the first time he saw himself gaining ground. He had 
watched the motions of his pursuer too closely, however, to pay 
proper attention to the nature of the ground before him, and he sud¬ 
denly found himself in front of a large tree which had been blown 
down, and upon which brush and other impediments lay to the 
height of eight or nine feet. The Indian (who heretofore had not 
uttered the slightest sound) now gave a short, quick yell, as if secure 
of his victim. Kennan had not a moment to deliberate. He must 
clear the impediment at a leap or perish. Putting all his energies 
into the effort, he bounded into the air with a power which aston¬ 
ished himself, and clearing limbs, brush, and every thing else, 
alighted in perfect safety upon the other side. A loud yell of aston¬ 
ishment burst from the band of pursuers, not one of whom had the 
hardihood to attempt the same feat. Kennan, as may be readily 
imagined, had no leisure to enjoy his triumph, but dashing into the 
bed of the creek (upon the banks of which his feat had been per¬ 
formed) where the high banks would shield him from the fire of the 
enemy, he ran up the stream until a convenient place offered for 
crossing, and rejoined the rangers in the rear of the encampment, 
panting from the fatigue of exertions which have seldom been sur¬ 
passed. No breathing time was allowed him, however. The at¬ 
tack instantly commenced, and as we have already observed, was 
maintained for three hours, with unabated fury. 

When the retreat commenced, Kennan was attached to Major 
Clarke’s battalion, and had the dangerous service of protecting the 
rear. This corps quickly lost its commander, and was completely 
disorganized. Kennan was among the hindmost when the flight 
commenced, but exerting those same powers which had saved him 
in the morning, he quickly gained the front, passing several horse- 


446 


INCIDENTS. 


men in the flight. Here he beheld a private in his own company, 
an intimate acquaintance, lying upon the ground, with his thigh bro¬ 
ken, and in tones of the most piercing distress, imploring each 
horseman who hurried by to take him up behind him. As soon as 
he beheld Kennan coming up on foot, he stretched out his arms, and 
called aloud upon him to save him. Notwithstanding the imminent 
peril of the moment, his friend could not reject so passionate an ap¬ 
peal, but seizing him in his arms, he placed him upon his back, and 
ran in that manner for several hundred yards. Horseman after 
horseman passed them, all of whom refused to relieve him of his 
burden. At length the enemy was gaining upon him so fast, that 
Kennan saw their death certain, unless he relinquished his burden. 
He accordingly told his friend, that he had used every possible ex¬ 
ertion to save his life, but in vain—that he must relax his hold 
around his neck or they would both perish. The unhappy wretch, 
heedless of every remonstrance, still clung convulsively to his back, 
and impeded his exertions until the foremost of the enemy (armed 
with tomahawks alone) were within twenty yards of them. Ken¬ 
nan then drew his knife from its sheath and cut the fingers of his 
companion, thus compelling him to relinquish his hold. The un¬ 
happy man rolled upon the ground in perfect helplessness, and 
Kennan beheld him tomahawked before he had gone thirty yards. 
Relieved of his burden he darted forward with an activity which 
once more brought him to the van. Here again he was compelled 
to neglect his own safety, in order to attend to that of others. The 
late Governor Madison, of Kentucky, who afterwards commanded 
the corps which defended themselves so honorably at Raisin, a man 
who united the most amiable temper to the most unconquerable cou¬ 
rage, was at that time a subaltern in St. Clair’s army, and being a 
man of infirm constitution, was totally exhausted by the exertions 
of the morning, and was now sitting down calmly upon a log, 
awaiting the approach of his enemies. Kennan hastily accosted 
him, and enquired the cause of his delay. Madison, pointing to a 
wound which had bled profusely, replied that he was unable to 
walk further and had no horse. Kennan instantly ran back to a spot 
where he had seen an exhausted horse grazing, caught him without 
difficulty, and having assisted Madison to mount, walked by his side 
until they were out of danger. Fortunately, the pursuit soon ceas¬ 
ed, as the plunder of the camp presented irresistable attractions to 
the enemy. The friendship thus formed between these two young 
men, endured without interruption through life. Mr. Kennan never 
entirely recovered from the immense exertions which he was com¬ 
pelled to make during this unfortunate expedition. He settled in 
Fleming county, and continued for many years a leading member of 
the Baptist Church. He died in 1827. 

Lieutenant Col. Darke’s escape, was almost miraculous. Pos¬ 
sessed of a tall, striking figure, in full uniform, and superbly mount¬ 
ed, he headed three desperate charges against the enemy, in each of 
which he w r as a conspicuous mark. His clothes were cut in many 


WAYNE. 


447 


places, but he escaped with only a slight flesh wound. In the last 
charge, Ensign Wilson, a youth of seventeen, was shot through the 
heart, and fell a few paces in the rear of the regiment, which was 
then rather rapidly returning to their original position. An Indian, 
attracted by his rich uniform, sprung up from the grass, and rushed 
forward to scalp him. Darke, who was at that time in the rear of 
his regiment, suddenly faced about, dashed at the Indian on horse¬ 
back, and cleft his skull with his broad sword, drawing upon himself 
by the act, a rapid discharge of more than a dozen rifles. He re¬ 
joined his regiment, however, in safety, being compelled to leave 
the body of young Wilson to the enemy. 

A few days after St. Clair’s defeat, General Scott, immedi¬ 
ately upon receiving intelligence of that disaster, had raised a corps 
of mounted volunteers with orders to reconnoitre and report the 
condition of the enemy. They accordingly approached the battle 
ground with all possible secrecy, and beheld it occupied by several 
hundred of the enemy, in all the triumph of success. Many of 
them were drunk and incapable of either flight or resistance, others 
were riding the bullocks with their faces turned to the tail, and all 
were in high glee. Hastily returning, they informed Scott of the 
condition of the enemy, who lost no time in availing himself of the 
opportunity. By a rapid forced march, he brought a considerable 
body of mounted men within reach of their camp, and hastily divi¬ 
ding them into three bodies, he fell suddenly upon the enemy, who 
were totally unprepared, and routed them with great slaughter.— 
More than two hundred of the enemy were left dead on the field, 
and many of the fugitives were wounded. All the artillery and bag¬ 
gage which yet remained upon the field were recovered, together 
with more than six hundred muskets, many of which had been scat¬ 
tered through the woods by their frightened owners. This was 
certainly the handsomest affair which graced the war, and does great 
honor to the courage and military abilities of Scott. It was of in¬ 
calculable service to the west, in dispelling the gloom occasioned by 
the misfortune of St. Clair. 


GEN. WAYNE. 

Amidst the almost universal clamor which arose upon the defeat 
of the unfortunate St. Clair, General Washington himself did not 
entirely escape censure. The appointment of an old, infirm, and 
above ail, an unlucky General to a command, which above all other 
qualities, required activity, promptitude, and the power of sustaining 
great fatigue, was reprobated in no measured terms. Public opinion 
imperiously demanded a better selection for the third offensive cam¬ 
paign, and St. Clair was necessarily superceded. The choice of a 
proper successor became the theme of general discussion and was a 
matter of no small difficulty. The command was eagerly sought by 
many officers of the revolution, among whom the most prominent 
38* 



448 


WAYNE. 


were General Wayne, of Pennsylvania, and the late General Henry 
Lee, of Virginia, the celebrated commandant of the Partizan legion 
during the war of Independence. The peculiar fitness of Lee for a 
command of that kind, seems to have impressed itself strongly upon 
the mind of Washington, and there is a letter extant, which shows, 
that nothing but the discontent, which the appointment of so young 
an officer, would naturally have excited in the minds of those who 
had held a rank above him in the former war, could have prevented 
his being the successor of St. Clair. This objection did not apply 
to Wayne, and as he had repeatedly proved himself a bold, active, 
and energetic commander, his appointment was unacceptable to those 
only whose claims had been rejected—a description of men very 
difficult to be pleased. Wayne had entered the army, as Colonel 
of a regiment in the Pennsylvania line, and first attracted notice in 
the Canadian expedition. He there displayed so keen a relish for 
battle upon all occasions, and upon any terms, exposed his own life 
as well as those of his men with such recklessness, and was in the 
habit of swearing so hard in the heat of battle, that he soon obtained, 
among the common soldiers, the nickname of “ Mad Anthony.” He 
never enjoyed a high reputation as an officer of prudence, science, 
and combination, and on one occasion, particularly, was surprized 
by the celebrated English partizan, Grey, and routed with a slaughter 
scarcely inferior to that of St. Clair. As an executive officer, how¬ 
ever, he was incomparable. He seemed to be of opinion, that the 
whole science of war consisted in giving and taking hard blows ; 
and we have heard from one who served under him many years, that 
his favorite word of command was “ Charge the d—d rascals with 
the bayonet.” Whenever (as at Stony Point,) a bold, brisk onset 
was all that was required, no better General than Wayne could pos¬ 
sibly be selected, but on other occasions, his keen appetite for action 
was apt to hurry him into an imprudent exposure of his troops. In 
Virginia, he once narrowly escaped total destruction, by pressing 
too eagerly upon Lord Cornwallis, who afterwards repeatedly affirm¬ 
ed, that one half hour more of daylight would have sufficed for the 
destruction of his rash but gallant enemy, and afterwards in the 
CaTolinas, his quarters were broken up, and his whole camp thrown 
into confusion by a small party of Creek Indians, who fell upon him 
as unexpectedly as if they had risen from the earth. Several severe 
losses, however, which he received in the course of his career, had 
taught him to temper his courage with a moderate degree of caution, 
and as he was remarkably popular among the common soldiers, (who 
are better judges of the ordinary quality of courage than the higher 
military talents,) he was supposed to be peculiarly qualified for re¬ 
animating the cowering spirits of the troops. There was an interval 
of more than a year between the deleat of St. Clair, and the appoint¬ 
ment of his successor. Wayne lost no time in proceeding to the 
head quarters of the western army, and arrived at fort Washington 
in the spring of ’93. Reinforcements of regular troops were con¬ 
stantly arriving, and in addition to the usual complement of cavalry 


WAYNE. 


449 


and artillery, a strong legionary corps was raised upon continental 
establishment, and placed under his command. In addition to this 
he was authorized to call upon the Governor of Kentucky (Shelby,) 
for as many mounted militia as might be necessary. It was so late 
in the season, however, before all the various forces could be collect¬ 
ed, and all the necessary supplies procured, that he judged it prudent 
to defer any offensive movement until the spring. The mounted 
volunteers were accordingly dismissed with some flattering encomi¬ 
ums upon their zeal and readiness, while the regular forces were 
placed in winter quarters. The volunteers returned to Kentucky 
with a high idea of the efficiency of the regular force under Wayne, 
and sanguine expectations of a favorable result. The rapid succes¬ 
sion of disasters which had heretofore attended the operations of 
regulars in conjunction with militia, had created a strong disgust to 
that species of force, and it was with difficulty that a sufficient num¬ 
ber of mounted men could be procured for co-operation. But after 
witnessing the order, diligence and energy which characterized 
Wayne’s conduct as an officer, and the indefatigable labor with 
which he drilled his troops into a ready performance of the necessary 
movements, this disrelish to a co-operation with regulars completely 
vanished, and on the following spring, the volunteers proffered their 
services with great alacrity. 

During the winter, Wayne remained at a fort which he had built 
upon a western fork of the little Miami, and to which he had given 
the name of Greenville. By detachments from the regular troops, 
he was enabled to sweep the country lying between him and the 
Miami villages, and having taken possession of the ground upon 
which St. Clair was defeated he erected a small fort upon it, to 
which he gave the name of Recovery. Ilis orders were positive, to 
endeavor, if possible, to procure peace upon resonable terms, with¬ 
out resorting to force, and he accordingly opened several conferences 
with the hostile tribes during the winter. Many of their chiefs 
visited him in his camp, and examined his troops, artillery and 
equipments with great attention, and from time to time made ample 
professions of a dispostion to bury the hatchet; but nothing definite 
could be drawn from them, onr from the known partiality of Wayne 
to the decision of the sword, could it be supposed that he pressed the 
overtures with much eagerness. As the spring approached, the 
visits of the Indians became more rare, and their professions of 
friendship waxed fainter. In February, they threw aside the mask 
at once, and made a bold effort to carry the distant out-post at fort 
Recovery by a coup de main. In this, however, they were frustra¬ 
ted by the vigilance and energy of the garrison, and finding that 
Wayne was neither to be surprized nor deceived, they employed 
themselves in collecting their utmost strength, with a determination 
to abide the brunt of battle. 

In the spring, the General called upon the Governor of Kentucky 
for a detachment of mounted men, who repaired with great alacrity 
to his standard, in two brigades under Todd and Barbee, the whole 


450 


WAYNE 


commanded by Major General Scott, amounting to more than fifteen 
hundred men, accustomed to Indian warfare. The regular force 
including cavalry and artillery, amounted to about two thousand, so 
that the General found himself at the head of three thousand men, 
well provided with every thing, in high spirits and eager for battle. 
The Indian force did not exceed two thousand, and was known to 
have assembled in the neighborhood of the British fort at the rapids 
of the Miami. 

It was late in July, before Wayne was ready to march from Green¬ 
ville, and from the nature of the country as well as the necessity of 
guarding against surprize, his progress was very leisurely. On the 
19th of August, when within a day’s march of the enemy’s position, 
he determined to send a messenger, charged with the last offer of 
peace and friendship, which he intended to make. For this dan¬ 
gerous, and apparently useless office, he selected a private volunteer, 
named Miller, who had formerly been taken by the Indians, and 
lived for many years upon the banks of the Miami. Miller, however, 
appeared to value his own neck much more highly than the General 
did, as he stoutly remonstrated against the duty, declaring that it 
would be useless to the army, as well as destructive to himself. He 
declared, confidently, that the Indians, from many undoubted signs, 
were resolutely bent upon baitle and would listen to nothing of which 
he might be the bearer. He added, that he knew them of old, and 
was satisfied that they would roast him alive, without an instant’s 
hesitation, in defiance of his white flag, and sacred character of 
ambassador. Wayne, however, was not to be diverted from his 
purpose. He assured Miller that he would hold eight or ten Indians, 
then in his camp, as hostages for his sale return, and if the enemy 
roasted him, he swore that a noble hecatomb should be offered to 
his manes, as he would compel all his prisoners to undergo the same 
fate; but concluded with an assurance that the Indians, when inform¬ 
ed of his determination, would dismiss him in perfect safety, from a 
regard to the lives of their friends. Reluctantly, and with many 
dark prophecies of the fate which awaited him, he at length consent¬ 
ed to go upon the mission, and having taken leave of his friends, 
he set off at a rapid pace for the Indian camp. When within view 
of it, he hoisted a white flag upon a pole and marched boldly for¬ 
ward, knowing that in this, as in most other cases, the boldest is 
the safest course. As soon as they beheld him approaching, they 
ran out to meet him with loud yells, brandishing their tomahawks, 
and crying out in their own language “ Kill the runaway 1” Miller, 
who, well understood their language, instantly addressed them with 
great earnestness, and in a few words made known the cause of his 
visit, and the guaranty which Wayne held for his safe return. To 
the first part of the intelligence they listened with supreme contempt. 
A long conference ensued, in which many chiefs spoke, but nothing 
could be determined upon. 

On the next day, Miller, was ordered to return to Wayne, with 
some evasive message, intending to amuse him, until they could 


WAYNE. 


451 


devise some means of recovering their friends. He, accordingly, 
left them with great readiness, and was returning with all possible 
despatch, when he met the General in full march upon the enemy, 
having become tired of waiting for the return of his messenger. 

The General received the report of Miller without delaying his 
march for a moment, which was continued in order of battle, until 
he arrived within view of the enemy. The regular force formed the 
centre column, one brigade of mounted volunteers moved upon the 
left under Gen. Barbee, the other brought up the rear under Brigadier 
Todd. The right flank was covered by the river, and Major Price, 
with a selected corps of mounted volunteers, was advanced about five 
miles in front, with orders to feel the enemy’s position, and then 
fall back upon the main body. About noon, the advanced corps re¬ 
ceived so heavy a fire from a concealed enemy, as to compel it to 
retire with precipitation. The heads of the columns quickly reach¬ 
ed the hostile ground, and had a view of the enemy. The ground 
for several miles was covered with a thick growth of timber, which 
rendered the operation of cavalry extremely difficult. The Indians 
occupied a thick wood in front, where an immense number of trees 
had been blown down by a hurricane, the branches of which were 
interlocked in such a manner as greatly to impede the exertions of 
the regulars. The enemy were formed in three parallel lines, at 
right angles to the river, and displayed a front of more than two 
miles. Wayne rode forward to reconnoitre their positions, and 
perceiving from the weight and extent of the fire, that they were in 
full force, he instantly made dispositions for the attack. The whole 
of the mounted volunteers were ordered to make a circuit, lor the 
purpose of turning the right flank of the Indians—the cavalry were 
ordered to move up under cover of the river bank, and if possible, 
turn their left while the regular infantry were formed in a thick 
wood in front of the “ Fallen timber,” with orders, as soon as the 
signal was given, to rush forward at full speed, without firing a shot, 
arousing the enemy from their covert at the point of the bayonet, 
and then to deliver a close fire upon their backs, pressing them so 
closely as not to permit them to reload their guns. All these orders 
were executed with precision. The mounted volunteers moved off 
rapidly to occupy the designated ground, while the first line of 
infantry, was formed under the eye of the commander for the perilous 
charge in front. 

As soon as time had been given for the arrival of the several corps, 
upon their respective points, the order was given to advance, and 
the infantry, rushing through a tremendous fire of rifles, and over¬ 
leaping every impediment, hastened to close with their concealed 
enemy, and maintain the struggle on equal terms. Allhough their 
loss, in this desperate charge, was by no means inconsiderable, yet 
the effect was decisive. The enemy rose and fled before them more 
than two miles, with considerable loss, as, owing to the orders of 
Wayne, they were nearly as much exposed as the regulars. Such 
was the rapidity of the advance, and precipitation of the retreat, that 


452 


WAYNE i 


only a small part of the volunteers could get up in time to share in 
the action, although there can be no question that their presence, 
and threatening movement, contributed equally with the impetuous 
charge of the infantry, to the success of the day. The broken re¬ 
mains of the Indian army were pursued under the guns of the British 
fort, and so keen was the ardor of Wayne’s men, and so strong their 
resentment against the English, that it was with the utmost difficulty, 
they could be restrained from storming it upon the spot. As it was, 
many of the Kentucky troops advanced within gunshot, and insulted 
the garrison with a select volley of oaths and epithets, which must 
have given the British commandant a high idea of backwoods gentili¬ 
ty. He instantly wrote an indignant letter to General Wayne, com¬ 
plaining of the outrage, and demanding by what authority he tres¬ 
passed upon the sacred precincts of a British garrison? Now, “ Mad 
Anthony ” was the last man in the world to be dragooned into 
politeness, and he replied in terms but little short of those employed 
by the Kentuckians, and satisfactorily informed Captain Campbell, 
the British commandant, that his only chance of safety was silence 
and civility. After some sharp messages on both sides, the war of 
the pen ceased, and the destruction of property began. Houses, 
stores, cornfields, orchards, were soon wrapped in flames or levelled 
with the earth. The dwelling house and store of Col. McKee, the 
Indian Agent, shared the fate of the rest. All this was performed 
before the face of Captain Campbell, who was compelled to look on 
in silence, and without any effort to prevent it. There remains not 
the least question now that the Indians were not only encouraged in 
their acts of hostility by the English traders , but were actually sup¬ 
plied with arms, ammunition and provisions, by order of the English 
commandant at Detroit, Col. England. There remains a corres¬ 
pondence between this gentleman and M’Kee, in which urgent 
demands are made for fresh supplies of ammunition, and the ap¬ 
proach of “ the enemy ” (as they call Wayne,) is mentioned with 
great anxiety. After the battle of the Rapids, he writes that the In¬ 
dians are much discouraged, and that “ it will require great efforts 
to induce them to remain in a body.” Had Wayne been positively 
informed of this circumstance, he would scarcely have restrained 
his men from a more energetic expression of indignation. 

The Indian force being completely dispersed, their cornfields cut 
up, and their houses destroyed, Wayne drew off from the neighbor¬ 
hood of the British post, and in order to hold the Indians permanently 
in check, he erected a fort at the junction of the Auglaize and Miami, 
in the very heart of the Indian country, to which he gave the 
appropriate name of Defiance. As this was connected with fort 
Washington by various intermediate fortifications, it could not fail 
completely to overawe the enemy, who, in a very short time, ur¬ 
gently and unanimously demanded peace. 

No victory could have been better timed than that of Wayne.— 
The various tribes of Indians throughout the whole of the United 
States, encouraged by the repeated disasters of our armies in the 


WAYNE. 


453 


north-west, nad become very unsteady and menacing in their inter¬ 
course with the whites. The Creeks and Cherokees, in the south, 
were already in arms, while the Oneidas, Tuscaroras, &c., in the 
north, were evidently preparing for hostilities. The shock of the 
victory at the Rapids, however, was directly felt in all quarters.— 
The southern Indians immediately demanded peace—the Oneidas, 
conscious of their evil intentions and fearful of the consequences, 
became suddenly affectionate even to servility, and within a few 
months after the victory, all the frontiers enjoyed the most profound 
peace. Wayne reported his loss at thirty-three killed and one hun¬ 
dred wounded. The Indian loss could not be ascertained, but wag 
supposed to exceed that of the Americans. This, however, is very 
doubtful, as they gave way immediately, and were not so much ex¬ 
posed as the continentals. 

One circumstance attending their flight is remarkable, and deserves 
to be noticed. Three Indians being hard pressed by the cavalry 
upon one side, and the infantry upon the other, plunged into the 
river and attempted to swim to the opposite shore. A runaway 
negro, who had attached himself to the American army, was con¬ 
cealed in the bushes upon the opposite bank, and perceiving three 
Indians approaching nearer than in his opinion was consistent with 
the security of his hiding place, he collected courage enough to level 
his rifle at the foremost, as he was swimming, and shot him through 
the head. The other two Indians instantly halted in the water, and 
attempted to drag the body of their dead companion ashore. The 
negro, in the mean time, reloaded his gun and shot another dead 
upon the spot. The survivor then seized hold of both bodies, and 
attempted, with a fidelity which seems astonishing, to bring them to 
land. The negro having had leisure to reload a second time, and 
firing from his covert upon the surviving Indian, wounded him mor¬ 
tally while struggling with the dead bodies. He then ventured to 
approach them, and from the striking resemblance of their features, 
as well as their devoted attachment, they were supposed to have 
been brothers. After scalping them, he permitted their bodies to 
float down the stream. 

From the peace of ’94, down to the renewal of war in the north 
west, under the auspices of Tecumseh and the Prophet, no event 
occurred of sufficient importance to claim particular notice. The 
war was over, and even private and individual aggression was of rare 
occurrence. The country which had been the scene of such fierce 
conflicts, became settled with a rapidity totally unprecedented in the 
annals of the world. The forests became rapidly thinned, and the 
game equally as rapidly disappeared. Numerous villages, as if by 
enchantment, were daily springing up in those wild scenes, where 
Kenton, Crawford, Slover, Johnston, and many other pioneers, had 
endured such sufferings ; and the Indians, from fierce and numerous 
tribes, were gradually melting down to a few squalid wanderers, 
hovering like restless spirits around the scenes of their former glory, 
or driven, with insult, from the doors of the settlers, where they 


454 


WAYNE. 


were perpetually calling for food and rum. Such wanderers were 
frequently murdered by lawless white men, who, like the rovers of 
old, contended that “ there was no peace beyond the line,” and as 
such offences were rarely punished, the Indians gradually became 
satisfied that they must either retire beyond the reach of the whites, 
or make one last effort to retrieve the sinking fortunes of their race. 
Tecumseh was the great apostle of this reviving spirit, and, to do 
him justice, displayed a genius and perseverance worthy of a better 
fete. As these events, however, are not embraced within the design 
ofHhis volume, we must refer the reader to the histories of the time 
for any information desired with regard to them. 


APPENDIX. 


In some of the preceding sketches, we had occasion to refer to 
various names and circumstances, which, from a wish to preserve 
the unity and connexion of the narrative, were passed over very 
slightly at the time, reserving a more full detail for the present place. 
We allude to the celebrated war upon the Kenhawa, generally known 
by the name of Dunmore’s expedition, in which the names of “ Lo¬ 
gan,” “ Lewis,” “ Girty,” “ Cornstalk,” &c., figure conspicuously. 
Many and various reasons have been assigned for this war. Some 
have atrributed it to the murder of Logan’s family, others to the 
equally atrocious murder of “ Bald Eagle,” a celebrated Delaware 
chief. Both, probably, contributed to hasten the rupture, which, 
however, would unquestionably have taken place without either.— 
The cause of this, as of all other Indian wars, is to be found in the 
jealousy and uneasiness with which the Indians beheld the rapid ex- 
tension of the white settlements. After the peace of’63, large tracts 
of land in the west had been assigned, as bounties, to such officers 
and soldiers as had fought throughout the war. Accordingly, as 
soon as peace was restored, crowds of emigrants hastened to the 
west, attended by the usual swarm of surveyors, speculators, &c. 
The inhabitants of the frontiers became mingled with the Indians.— 
They visited and received visits from each other, and frequently 
met in their hunting parties. Peace existed between the nations, 
but the old, vindictive feelings, occasioned by mutual injuries, still 
rankled in the breast of individuals. Civilities were quickly followed 
by murders, which led to retaliation, remonstrances, promises of 
amendment, and generally closed with fresh murders. 

The murder of “ Bald Eagle,” an aged Delaware Sachem, was 
peculiarly irritating to that warlike nation. He spoke the English 
language with great fluency, and being remarkably fond of tobacco, 
sweetmeats, and rum, all of which were generally offered to him in 
profusion in the settlements, he was a frequent visiter at the fort 
erected at the mouth of the Kenhawa, and familiarly acquainted even 
with the children. He usually ascended the river alone, in a bark 
canoe, and from the frequency and harmlessness of his visits, his 
appearance never excited the least alarm. A white man who had 
suffered much from the Indians, encountered the old chief one even- 
39 



456 


APPENDIX. 


ing, alone upon the river, returning peaceably from one of his usual 
visits. A conference ensued, which terminated in a quarrel, and 
the old man was killed upon the spot. The murderer, having 
scalped his victim, fixed the dead body in the usual sitting posture 
in the stern of the boat, replaced the pipe in his mouth, and launch¬ 
ing the cnioe again upon the river, permitted it to float down with 
its burden, undisturbed. Many settlers beheld it descending in this 
manner, but from the upright posture of the old man, they thought 
that he was only returning as usual from a visit to the whites. The 
truth, however, was quickly discovered, and inflamed his tribe with 
the most ungovernable rage. Vengeance was vowed for the outrage 
and amply exacted. 

At length hostilities upon this remote frontier became so serious, 
as to demand the attention of government. One of the boldest of 
these forays, was conducted by Logan in person. Supposing that 
the inhabitants of the interior would consider themselves secure from 
the Indians, and neglect those precautions which were generally 
used upon the frontier, he determined, with a small but select band 
of follevvers, to penetrate to the thick settlements upon the head wa¬ 
ters of the Monongahela, and wreak his vengeance upon its unsus¬ 
pecting inhabitants. The march was conducted with the usual se¬ 
crecy of Indian warriors, and with great effect. Many scalps and 
several prisoners were taken, with which, by the signal conduct of 
their chief, they were enabled to elude all pursuit, and return in 
safety to their towns. One of the incidents attending this incursion 
deserves to be mentioned, as illustrating the character of Logan.— 
While hovering, with his followers, around the skirts of a thick set¬ 
tlement, he suddenly came within view of a small field, recently 
cleared, in which three men were pulling flax. Causing the greater 
part of his men to remain where they were, Logan, together with 
two others, crept up within long shot of the white men, and fired.— 
One man fell dead, the remaining two attempted to escape. The 
elder of the fugitives (Hellew) was quickly overtaken and made 
prisoner by Logan’s associates, while Logan himself, having thrown 
down his rifle, pressed forward alone in pursuit of the younger of 
the white men, whose name was Robinson. The contest was keen 
for several hundred yards, but Robinson, unluckily, looking around, 
in order to have a view of his pursuer, ran against a tree with such 
violence as completely to stun him, and render him insensible for 
several minutes. Upon recovering, he found himself bound and 
lying upon his back, while Logan sat by his side, with unmoved 
gravity, awaiting his recovery. He was then compelled to accom¬ 
pany them in their further attempts upon the settlements, and in the 
course of a few days, was marched off with great rapidity for their 
villages in Ohio. During the march, Logan remained silent and 
melancholy, probably brooding over the total destruction of his fam¬ 
ily. The prisoners, however, were treated kindly, until they arrived 
at an Indian village upon the Muskingum. When within a mile of 


APPENDIX. 


457 


the town, Logan became more animated, and uttered the “ scalp 
halloo ” several limes, in the most terrible tones. The never failing 
scene of insult and torture then began. Crowds flocked out to meet 
them, and a line was formed tor the gauntlet. Logan took no share 
in the cruel game, but did not attempt to repress it. He, however, 
gave Robinson, whom he regarded as his own prisoner, some direc¬ 
tions as to the best means of reaching the council-house in safety, 
and displayed some anxiety for his safe arrival, while poor llellew 
was left in total ignorance, and permitted to struggle forward as he 
best could. Robinson, under the patronage of Logan, escaped with 
a few slight bruises, but Hellew, not knowing where to run, was 
dreadfully mangled, and would probably have been killed upon the 
spot, had not Robinson (not without great risk on his own part) 
seized him by the hand and dragged him into the council-house. 

On the following morning a council was called in order to deter- 
mine their fate, in which Logan held a conspicuous superiority over 
all who were assembled. Hellew’s destiny came first under discus¬ 
sion, and was quickly decided bv an almost unanimous vote of adop¬ 
tion. Robinson’s was most difficult to determine. A majority of 
the council, (partly influenced by a natural thirst for vengeance upon 
at least one object, partly, perhaps, by a lurking jealousy of the im¬ 
posing superiority of Logan’s character,) were obstinately bent upon 
putting him to death. Logan spoke for nearly an hour on the ques¬ 
tion, and if Robinson is to be believed, with an energy, copiousness 
and dignity, which would not have disgraced Henry himself. He 
appeared at no loss for either words or ideas, his tones were deep 
and musical, and were heard by the assembly with the silence of 
death. All, however, was vain. Robinson was condemned, and 
within an hour afterwards, was fastened to the stake. Logan stood 
apart from the crowd with his arms folded, and his eyes fixed upon 
the scene with an air of stern displeasure. When the fire was about 
to be applied, he suddenly strode into the circle, pushing aside those 
who stood in the way, and advancing straight up to the stake, cut 
the cords with his tomahawk, and taking the prisoner by the hand, 
led him with a determined air to his own wigwam. The action was 
so totally unexpected, and the air of the chief so determined, that he 
had reached the door of his wigwam before any one ventured to in¬ 
terfere. Much dissatisfaction was then expressed, and threatening 
symptoms of a tumult appeared, but so deeply rooted was his autho- 
ritv, that in a few hours all was quiet, and Robinson, without oppo¬ 
sition, was permitted to enter an Indian family. He remained with 
Logan until the treaty of Fort Pitt, in the autumn ol the ensuing 
year, when he returned to Virginia. He ever retained the most un¬ 
bounded admiration for Logan, and repeatedly declared that his 
countenance, when speaking, was the most striking, varied, and im¬ 
pressive, that he ever beheld. And when it is recollected that he 
had often heard Lee and Henry, in all their glory, the compliment 
must be regarded as a very high one. 


458 


APPENDIX. 


This together with many other marauding expeditions, generally 
carried on by small parties, determined the Governor of Virginia 
(Dunmore) to assemble a large force and carry the war into their 
own territories. The plan of the expedition was soon arranged.— 
Three complete regiments were to be raised west of the Blue Ridge, 
under the command of General Andrew Lewis ; while an equal 
force, from the interior, was commanded by Dunmore in person.— 
The armies were to form a junction at the mouth of the Great Ken- 
hawa, and proceed together under Dunmore, to the Indian towns in 
Ohio. On the 1st of September, 1774, a part of Gen. Lewis’ divi¬ 
sion, consisting of two regiments, under the orders of Col. Charles 
Lewis, his brother, and Col. William Fleming, of Botetourt, ren¬ 
dezvoused at Camp Union, (now Lewisburg, Va.,) where they were 
joined by an independent regiment of backwoods volunteers, under 
the orders of Col. John Fields, a very distinguished officer, who, 
together with most of those now assembled, had served under Brad- 
dock. Here they remained, awaiting the arrival of Col. Christian, 
who was busily engaged in assembling another regiment. By the 
junction of Field, Lewis’ force amounted to about eleven hundred 
men, accustomed to danger, and conducted by the flower of the 
border officers. Gen. Lewis, as well as his brother, had been pres¬ 
ent at Braddock’s defeat, and were subaltern officers in two compa¬ 
nies of Virginia riflemen, who formed the advance of the English 
army. 

We shall here relate some circumstances attending that melan¬ 
choly disaster, which are not to be found in the regular histories of 
the period. Braddock’s battle-ground was a small bottom, contain¬ 
ing not more than two acres, bounded on the east by the Mononga- 
hela, and on the west by a high cliff which rises precipitately above 
the bottom, and which, together with the river, completely enclosed 
it. Through this cliff, and near its centre, runs a deep gorge or ra¬ 
vine, the sides of which are nearly perpendicular, and the summits 
of which were at that time thickly covered with timber, rank grass, 
and thickets of underwood. Upon this cliff the Indian army lay in 
ambush, awaiting the arrival of their foe. The only passage for the 
English, lay right through the ravine, immediately in front of the 
ford. The two companies of rangers crossed the river in advance 
of the regulars, and suspecting no danger, immediately entered the 
mouth of the ravine. Braddock followed in close column, and the 
devoted army soon stood in the bottom already mentioned, the river 
in the rear, the cliff in front, and the ravine presenting the only 
practicable passage to the French fort. Instantly, a tremendous fire 
opened upon them from the cliff above, and as the small bottom was 
thronged with red coats, immense execution was done. In the mean 
time, the two devoted companies of rangers were more than one 
hundred yards in front, and completely buried in the gorge already 
mentioned. Upon hearing the firing in their rear, they attempted 
to rejoin the army, but a select corps of Indian warriors rushed 
down the steep banks of the ravine and blocked up the passage. A 


APPENDIX. 


459 


furious struggle ensued. The Indians could not possibly give way, 
as the banks were too steep to admit of retreat in that direction, and 
if they retired through the mouth of the ravine into the bottom below, 
they would have found themselves in the midst of the English ranks. 
On the other hand, the Virginians were desperately bent upon re¬ 
joining their friends, which could only be done over the bodies of 
the Indians. Thus the gorge became the theatre of a separate battle, 
far more desperate than that which raged in the bottom or upon the 
cliffs. In these two companies, were to be found many names 
afterwards highly distinguished both in the Indian and British war. 
Here was General Lewis and his five brothers; Col. Matthews, 
afterwards so distinguished at Germantown, together with four of 
his brothers ; Col. John Field, afterwards killed at Point Pleasant; 
Col. Grant, of Kentucky, John McDowell, and several others, after¬ 
wards well known in Virginia and Kentucky. The press was too 
great to admit of the rifle. Knives and tomahawks were their only 
weapons, and upon both sides (for the numbers engaged) the slaugh¬ 
ter was prodigious. One half of the Virginians were left dead in 
the pass, and most of the survivors were badly wounded. The 
Indians suffered equally, and at length became so much thinned as 
to afford room for the Virginians to pass them and rejoin their 
friends below. There all was dismay and death. Braddock, unable 
from the nature of the ground to charge with effect, and too proud 
to retreat before an enemy whom lie despised, was actively, and as 
calmly as if upon parade, laboring to form his troops under a fire 
which threatened to annihilate every thing within its range. The 
event is well known. 

Upon the fall of Braddock, the troops gave way, and recrossing 
the river, rejoined the rear guard of the army, alter a defeat, which 
then had no parallel in Indian warfare. Col. Lewis afterwards 
served as Major in Washington’s regiment, and ranked peculiarly 
high in the estimation of his illustrious commander. He accompa¬ 
nied Grant in his unfortunate masquerade, and in a brave attempt 
with the colonial troops to retrieve the fortune of the day, was 
wounded and made prisoner by the French. While he and Grant 
were together at Fort du Quesne, upon parole, a quarrel took place 
between them, much to the amusement of the French. Grant, in 
his despatches, had made Lewis the scapegoat, and thrown the 
whole blame of the defeat upon him; whereas, in truth, the only 
execution that was done, was effected by his Virginia troops. The 
despatches fell into the hands of some Indians, who brought them to 
the French commandant. Captain Lewis happened to be present 
when they were opened, and was quickly informed of their contents. 
Without uttering a word, he instantly went in search of Grant, re¬ 
proached him with the falsehood, and putting his hand upon his 
sword, directed his former commander to draw and defend himself 
upon the spot. Grant contemptuously refused to comply, upon 
which Lewis lost all temper, cursed him for a liar and a coward, and 
39* 


460 


APPENDIX. 


in the presence of two French officers spat in his face! General 
Lewis’ person considerably exceeded six feet in height, and was at 
once strongly and handsomely formed. His countenance was manly 
and stern—strongly impressive of that fearlessness and energy of 
character which distinguished him through life. His manners were 
plain, cold and unbending, and his conversation short, pithy and 
touching only upon the “ needful.” At the general treaty with the 
Indian tribes in ’63, Gen. Lewis was present, and his fine military 
appearance attracted great attention, and inspired somewhat of awe 
among the more pacific deputies. The Governor of New York de¬ 
clared that he “ looked like the genius of the forest—and that the 
earth seemed to tremble beneath his footsteps.” 

Such as we have described him, he was now placed at the head 
of one thousand men, with orders to meet Dunmore at Point Plea¬ 
sant. Having waited several days at Levvisburgh for Col. Christian, 
without hearing from him, he determined no longer to delay his ad¬ 
vance. On the 11th of September, he left Levvisburgh, and without 
any adventure of importance, arrived at the concerted place of ren¬ 
dezvous. Dunmore had not yet arrived, and Lewis remained several 
days in anxious expectation of his approach. At length, he received 
despatches from the Governor, informing him that he had changed 
his plan, and had determined to move directly upon the Sciota villa¬ 
ges, at the same time ordering Lewis to cross the Ohio and join 
him. Although not much gratified at this sudden change of a plan 
which had been deliberately formed, Lewis prepared to obey, and 
had issued directions for the construction of rafts, boats, &c., in 
which to cross the Ohio, when on the morning of the 10th October, 
two of his hunters came running into camp, with the intelligence 
that a body of Indians was at hand, which covered “ four acres of 
ground.” Upon this intelligence, the General (having first lit his 
pipe) directed his brother, Col. Charles Lewis, to proceed with his 
own regiment, and that of Col. Fleming, and reconnoitre the ground 
where the enemy had been seen, while he held the remainder of the 
army ready to support him. Col. Charles Lewis immediately ad¬ 
vanced in the execution of his orders, and at the distance of a mile 
from camp, beheld a large body of the enemy advancing rapidly in 
the hope of surprising the Virginian camp. The sun was just rising 
as the rencontre took place, and in a few minutes the action became 
warm and bloody. Col. Charles Lewis being much exposed, and in 
full uniform, was mortally wounded early in the action, as was Col. 
Fleming, the second in -command. The troops having great confi¬ 
dence in Col. Lewis, were much discouraged, and being hard press¬ 
ed by the enemy, at length gave way, and attempted to regain the 
camp. At this critical moment, Gen. Lewis ordered up Field’s regi¬ 
ment. which coming handsomely into action, restored the fortune of 
the day. The Indians, in turn, were routed, and compelled to retire 
to a spot where they had erected a rough breastwork of logs. 

The action was fought in the narrow point of land formed by the 


AfPENDIX. 


461 


junction of the Ohio and Kena\vli3. The Indian breastwork was 
formed from one river to the other, so as to enclose the Virginians 
within the point, of course the breastwork formed the base, and the 
Virginian camp the vertex of the triangle, of which the rivers were 
sides. Here they rallied in full force, and appeared determined to 
abide the brunt of the Virginian force. Logan, Cornstalk, Elenipsico, 
Red Eagle, and many other celebrated chiefs were present, and were 
often heard loudly encouraging their warriors. Cornstalk, chief 
Sachem of the Shawanees, and leader of the northern confederacy, 
was particularly conspicuous. As the repeated efforts of the whites 
to carry the breastwork, became more warm and determined, the In¬ 
dian line began to waver, and several were seen to give way. Corn¬ 
stalk, in a moment, was upon the spot, and was heard distinctly to 
shout “ Be strong ! Be strong !” in tones which rose above the din 
of the conflict. He buried his hatchet in the head of one of his 
warriors, and indignantly shaming the rest, completely restored the 
battle, which raged until four o’clock in the afternoon, without any 
decisive result. The Virginians fought with distinguished bravery, 
and suffered severely in those repeated charges upon the breastwork, 
but were unable to make any impression. The Indians, towards 
evening, despatched a part of their force to cross the rivers, in order 
to prevent the escape ol a man of the Virginians, should victory turn 
against them. 

At length, Gen. Lewis, alarmed at the extent of his loss, and the 
obstinacy of the enemy, determined to make an effort to turn their 
flank with three companies, and attack them in rear. By the aid ol 
a small stream, which empties into the Kenhawa, a short distance 
above its mouth, and which at that time had high and bushy banks, 
he was enabled to gain their rear with a small force, commanded by 
Captain (afterwards Governor) Isaac Shelby. Cornstalk instantly 
ordered a retreat, which was performed in a masterly manner, and 
with a very slight loss, the Indians alternately advancing and retreat¬ 
ing in such a manner as to hold the whites in check, until dark, 
when the whole body disappeared. The loss of the Virginians was 
severe, and amounted in killed and wounded to one fourth of their 
whole number. The Indian loss was comparatively trifling. The 
action was shortly followed by a treaty, at which all the chiefs were 
present except Logan, who refused to be included in it. He wander¬ 
ed among the northwestern tribes, for several years, like a restless 
spirit, and finally, iu utter recklessness, became strongly addicted to 
gaming and the use of ardent spirits. He was at length murdered 
on a solitary journey from Detroit to the north eastern part of Ohio, 
as is generally supposed by his own nephew. 

It is not a little singular, that the three celebrated Indian chiefs 
who commanded in the battle at the Point, should all have been 
murdered, and that two ol them should have met their fate upon the 
same spot which had witnessed their brave efforts to repress the ex¬ 
tension of the white settlements. Cornstalk and Elenipsico, his son, 


462 


APPENDIX. 


were killed during a friendly visit to Point Pleasant, in the summer 
of 1775, only a few months after the action. The circumstances 
attending the affair are thus related by Col. Stewart: 

“ A Captain Arbuckle commanded the garrison of the fort erected 
at Point Pleasant after the battle fought by General Lewis with the 
Indians at that place, in October, 1774. In the succeeding year, 
when the revolutionary war had commenced, the agents of Great 
Britain exerted themselves to excite the Indians to hostility against 
the United States. The mass of the Shawanees entertained a strong 
animosity against the Americans. But, two of their chiefs. Corn¬ 
stalk and Red Hawk, not participating in that animosity, visited the 
garrison at the Point, where Arbuckle continued to command. Col. 
Stewart was at the post in the character of a volunteer, and was an 
eye-witness of the facts which he relates. Cornstalk represented 
his unwillingness to take a part in the war, on the British side: but 
stated, that his nation, except himself and his tribe, were determined 
on war with us, and he supposed, that he and his people would be 
compelled to go with the stream. On this intimation, Arbuckle 
resolved to detain the two chiefs, and a third Shawanees who came 
with them to the fort, as hostages, under the expectation of preven¬ 
ting thereby any hostile efforts of the nation. On the day before 
these unfortunate Indians fell victims to the fury of the garrison, 
Elenipsico, the son of Cornstalk, repaired to Point Pleasant for the 
purpose of visiting his father, and on the next day, two men belong¬ 
ing to the garrison, whose names were Hamilton and Gillmore, 
crossed the Kenhawa, intending to hunt in the woods beyond it.— 
On their return from hunting, some Indians who had come to view 
the position at the Point, concealed themselves in the weeds near 
the mouth of the Kenhawa, and killed Gillmore while endeavoring 
to pass them. Col. Stewart and Capt. Arbuckle were standing on 
the opposite bank of the river, at that time and were surprized that 
a gun had been fired so near the fort, in violation of orders which 
had been issued inhibiting such an act. Hamilton ran down the 
bank, and cried out that Gillmore was killed. Captain Hall com¬ 
manded the company to which Gillmore belonged. His men leaped 
into a canoe, and hastened to the relief of Hamilton. They brought 
the body of Gillmore weltering in blood, and the head scalped, across 
the river. The canoe had scarcely reached the shore, when Hall’s 
men cried out “Let us kill the Indians in the fort.” Captain Hall 
placed himself in front of his soldiers, -and they ascended the river’s 
bank pale with rage, and carrying their loaded firelocks in their 
hands. Colonel Stuart and Captain Arbuckle exerted themselves in 
vain, to dissuade these men, exasperated to madness by the spectacle 
of Gillmore’s corpse, from the cruel deed which they contemplated. 
They cocked their guns, threatening those gentlemen with instant 
death, if they did not desist, and rushed into the fort. 

The interpreter’s wife, who had been a captive among the Indians, 
and felt an affection tor them, ran to their cabin and informed them 


APPENDIX. 


463 


that Hall’s soldiers were advancing, with the intention of taking 
their lives, because they believed that the Indians who killed Gill- 
more, had come with Cornstalk’s son the preceding day. This the 
young man solemnly denied, and averred that he knew nothing of 
them. His father, perceiving that Elenipsico was in great agitation, 
encouraged him and advised him not to fear. “ If the great Spirit, 
said he, has sent you here to be killed, you ought to die like a man!” 
As the soldiers approached the door, Cornstalk rose to meet them, 
and received seven or eight balls which instantly terminated his 
existence. His son was shot dead in the seat which he occupied. 
The Red Hawk made an attempt to climb the chimney, but fell by 
ihe fire of some of Hall’s men. The other Indian, says Colonel 
Stuart, “ was shamefully mangled, and I grieved to see him so long 





REVIEW. 


The Great West.* 


Many may, and no doubt but some readers will, deem contrasts 
between the past and present condition of the great West as trival; 
but I hope that more will gladly go with me in those retrospective 
excursions. In some previous communications, I have endeavored 
to sketch outlines of the physical geography of the higher part of 
the Ohio Valley. I shall now proceed to give some outlines of its 
history. We owe an unpayable debt to the men who were the 
pioneers into the Western wilds ; but, if they are gone beyond our 
reach, if they are removed to where even the voice of our gratitude 
cannot be heard, it is well to remind the existing generation how 
much of their enjoyments has been produced by the toil, sweat and 
blood of their foreparents or forerunners. A much too common 
opinion has prevailed, and continues to prevail, that the early frontier 
settlers were rough, rude, ignorant, and lawless ; whilst it may be 
asserted, fearlessly, that the far greater number of them were, on 
the contrary, as well informed, as orderly, and as ardently inclined 
to promote the interests of religion, pure morals, ar,d the restraints 
of law, as were those they left in the more safe Eastern border. As 
a proof of these assertions, one of the first erections made by these 
pioneers was a log school-house, and one of the next a temple or 
meeting-house. Rough and rude were their own dwellings, and 
60 were their school-houses and meeting-houses, and so were there 
clothing and diet; but kind and affectionate were their hearts, and 
open were their doors to the stranger. The increase of popu¬ 
lation, commenced thus, is a phenomenon of high interest in 
the political history of this continent, but it yields in intensity of 
interest to the intellectual advance of the West. The proceedings 
and debates in the halls of our general legislation afford accumulated 
documents in support of the foregoing. It would also appear, from 
the sequel, that these primitive settlers had some where read and 

* For the subjoined pages, the compiler ot this volume is indebted to an intelli¬ 
gent and well-informed correspondent of the “National Intelligencer,” for which 
journal they were originally furnished in detached numbers.—They arc regarded 
48 both interesting in themselves and suitable for the closing of this work. 



466 


REVIEW. 


adopted the following conclusions, drawn in A. D. 1525, by Philip 
Melancthon, in his oration at the opening of the Academy of 
Nuremberg: 

“ In the proper constitution of a state, therefore, schools of learn¬ 
ing are primarily requisite, where the rising generation, which is the 
foundation of a future empire, should be instructed ; for it is a most 
fallacious idea to suppose that solid excellence is likely to be acquir¬ 
ed without due regard to instruction; nor can persons be suitably 
qualified to govern the state without the knowledge of those princi¬ 
ples of right government which learning only can bestow.” 

Recommending to some high dignitaries of the present age a care¬ 
ful attention to the words of one of the most gifted of the sons of 
men, I shall proceed to give a few outlines of the history of the great 
West. Bred, myself, on the Indian frontier, and, from infancy, a 
witness to the advance of white, and destruction of Indian, popula¬ 
tion ; and, in the decline of life, when the far greater number of 
those in whose fate or fame my feelings were enlisted in my more 
youthful years, are gone to their rest, I hope I may speak freely. 
Even in youth, and many years before the most distant idea was 
conceived of writing on the subject, it had struck me repeatedly that 
one material error prevailed as regarded the Indian population of not 
alone the Ohio Valley, but of all the interior regions of North 
America, and that was, that their numbers were most enormously 
exaggerated. “ What has become of the Indians? ” is a question 
proposed on all sides ; and, though not all, yet much of its import 
may be complied with by the plain answer, “To the amount usually 
supposed, or to any near approach to any such amount, the Indians 
never had an existence.” “ This is a bold assertion,” many may 
say ; and, unsupported by evidence, it would really be not only a 
bold but rash assertion. Let us examine some of the evidence. 

The Anglo-Saxon population commenced settlements necessarily 
on or near the seacoast. The first permanent settlement of that 
people in America was made in 1607, in Eastern Virginia; and, 
between that epoch and 1650, the English had colonized Lower 
Virginia and Lower Maryland, and the eastern and southern parts 
of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut; the Dutch had 
planted a colony on the Hudson ; the Swedes one on the Delaware ; 
and the French had colonized Canada, and were thinly scattered 
along the St. Lawrence. Fifty years still later, the French planted 
a feeble colony near the mouth of the Mississippi river. And again, 
at the end of another half century, or in 1750, what was the condi¬ 
tion of the immense interior regions drained by the confluents of the 
mighty Mississippi ? Thus answers the author of Border Warfare: 

“ As settlements extended from the sea shore, the Massawonies 
gradually retired ; and when the white population reached the Blue 
Ridge of mountains, the valley between it and the Alleghany was 
entirely uninhabited. This delightful region of country was then 
only used as a hunting ground, and as a highway for belligerent 


REVIEW. 


467 


parties of different nations, in their military expeditions against each 
other. In consequence of the almost continued hostilities be¬ 
tween the Northern and Southern Indians, these expeditions were 
very frequent, and tended somewhat to retard the settlement of the 
valley and to render a residence in it for some time insecure and 
unpleasant. Between the Alleghany mountains and the Ohio river, 
within the present limits of Virginia, there were some villages inter¬ 
spersed, inhabited by a small number of Indians ; the most of whom 
retired northwest of that river as the tide of emigration rolled towards 
it. Some, however, remained in the interior, after settlements began 
to be made in their vicinity. 

“ North of the present boundary of Virginia, and particularly near 
the junction of the Alleghany and Monongahela rivers, [where Pitts¬ 
burg now stands,] and in the circumjacent country the Indians were 
more numerous, and their villages larger. In 1753, when George 
Washington visited the French posts on the Ohio, the spot which 
had been selected by the Ohio Company as the site for a fort was 
occupied by Shingess, King of the Delawares ; and other parts of 
the proximate country were inhabited by Mingoes and Shawanees. 
When the French were forced to abandon the position which they 
had taken at the forks of Ohio, the greater part of the adjacent tribes 
removed further west. So that when improvements were begun to 
be made in the wilderness of northwestern Virgiania, (nothwestern 
and western Pennsylvania also,) it had been almost entirely deserted 
by the natives; and excepting a few straggling hunters and warriors, 
who occasionally traversed it in quest of game, or of human beings 
on whom to wreak their vengeance, almost the only tenants were 
beasts of the forest.” 

The following tabular statement was formed on the information 
afforded by the best authorities on the subject and shows, as far as 
correct, the state of the Indian tribes west of the main spine of the 
Alleghany mountains, and on the Ohio valley and adjacent places, at 


about 1755: 

Munsees, Senecas , Cayugas , and Saponies , residing on 
Alleghany and Susquehanna rivers, and intermediate 

country to Lake Ontario.1,380 

Delawares , residing on Big Beaver, Cuyahoga, and 

Muskingum rivers.600 

Shawanees, residing on Muskingum and Scioto rivers - 300 

Chippawas, near Michilimackinac - 400 

Cahunewagoes, on Sandusky river - 300 

Wyandots , on Maumee river.250 

Twightwees , also on Maumee river ... - 250 

Miamies , on Miami river.300 

Ottawas, on Peninsular Michigan, towards Detroit - 550 

Ottawas , on Peninsular Michigan towards Michilimack¬ 
inac - 250 


40 



468 


REVIEW. 


Chickasaws , on the western part of what is now the State 
of Tennessee, and northern of that of Mississippi - 750 

Cherokees , western part of North Carolina and adjacent 


parts - .2,500 

Tribes scattering .2,170 


Total.10,000 

When we read the history of the Western Indian wars which 
succeeded to the war of the Revolution, and without investigating 
relative numbers, and then meeting such a statement as the fore¬ 
going, we are struck with profound astonishment, if not with incre¬ 
dulity. Yet, when a due examination is made, it may be assumed 
as a fact, that if to the above aggregate we add the whole tribes of 
Creeks, Choctaws, and every other tribe of Indians from the Cana¬ 
dian lakes to the Gulf of Mexico, and as far west as the meridian of 
St. Louis, there did not, in 1755, exist on this wide-spread region 
an Indian population of thirty thousand souls. The space exceeds 
an area of 450,000 square miles, or upwards of 15 square miles to 
every naked savage. The superficies exceeds the aggregate surface 
ol Portugal, Spain, and France, on which there are now about fifty 
millions of inhabitants. 

In no other instance in all human affairs was that profound 
metaphysical truth, “ words are things ,” more completely proven 
than in the history of the Indians of the Ohio and Mississippi regions. 
The pompous title of Nation was applied, and, when using the 
term, the idea of nation rose in the mind, though given to mere 
tribes, and, what was worse, to extremely diminutive tribes. 

From the first landing of the English at Jamestown, up to the 
treaty of Greenville, (may we not saj’ - up to 1839?) entire peace 
has not existed one year along the whole frontier line. The Indians 
have foreseen their own ruin ; have attempted to form confederacies 
to expel or destroy their invaders, and yet have never, at any moment, 
been able to assemble at one point an army of two thousand men. 
And why ? Simply because such a body would have demanded, in 
their state of population, the entire males of a space of country equal 
to the aggregate surface of Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, and 
Ohio. 

As the whites advanced, cut down the forests, and let day-light 
fall on the earth, the Indians disappeared, as phantoms disappear 
before the rising sun. To render the preceding observations more 
striking, let us take a map of the United States, and on it draw a 
line through the city of Albany to Lynchburg, in Virginia ; then 
suppose the same line continued in both directions, and one extreme 
will fall on the Gulf of Mexico, a little to the westward of the mouth 
of Appalachicola river, and the other, after traversing the southern 
part of Vermont, and the northern of New Hampshire, will leave 
the United States in Upper Maine. If on the supposed line we take 
Martinsville, Henry county, Virginia, as a point of outset, and pro- 




review. 


469 


ceed to the northeastward, we would leave all the dense settlements 
of the then (1755) Anglo-North American colonies to the right or 
towards the ocean. In the opposite direction, or westward of the 
line in Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, and Vermont, 
scattering settlements had been made within the preceding forty 
years, but receding from the line of demarcation, these settlements 
became more and more scattered, until along the western ridges of 
the Appalachian mountains, Pittsburg, and a few other forts, marked 
the utmost frontiers. 

Returning again to Martinsville, and following our projected line 
in a southwestwards direction, we would, in 1755, have iound to 
our right a few settlements of whites in North Carolina, some in 
South Carolina, but in Georgia still fewer, and, before reaching tho 
Mexican gulf, have plunged into an unbroken Indian country. 

If again we suppose a second line drawn parallel to, and at, one 
hundred and fifty miles direct air course northwestward of the first, 
the second line would, on the Gulf of Mexico, leave the mouth of 
Mobile river, pass near Knoxville, in Tennessee, traverse eastern 
Kentucky, and western Virginia, and, in the latter, from ten to forty 
miles eastward of the Ohio river; enter Pennsylvania near the south¬ 
western angle, pass near Pittsburg, and, traversing western Pennsyl- 
vainia and western New York, merge into Lake Ontario a little to 
the westward of the mouth of Oswego river ; but, after crossing the 
eastern angle of that lake, it would follow the general course of St. 
Lawrence river to north latitude 45 degrees. 

The parallelogram between those lines includes a length of 1,200 
miles, which, with a breadth of 150 miles, would comprise 180,000 
square miles, and the far greater part of the Appalachian region, and 
a region, there can be no hazard in asserting, having, in every thing 
which can conduce to human happiness, no superior continuous 
section on the surface of the earth. The existing population is no 
doubt underrated at four millions, and there can be no rational doubt 
that eighty years ago the same surface did not sustain the one-thou¬ 
sandth part of such an amount. 

In my last number, I specified the great parallelogram of 1,200 
miles in length, breadth 150 miles, and area 180,000 square miles, 
constituting the immediate western border of the Appalachian system 
of mountains, and may now continue by observing that the southern 
part of that parallelogram was then (1755) occupied by the Creeks ; 
the northern by the Senecas and other scattering tribes; but the cen¬ 
tral and far greater part of the surface was a dark, gloomy, and silent 
void, in regard to human civilization, and what is peculiarly re¬ 
markable, it appears never to have been the permanent residence of 
Indian tribes of the present race of savages. Tumuli of different 
forms still in existence, show that a more ancient and different peo¬ 
ple did once abide here, but every indication proves that ages upon 
ages have passed away since those rude memoria were piled. When 



470 


REVIEW. 


not a century ago, our fathers and grandfathers entered its recesses, 
it was, as we have said, a fearful void in respect to intellectual life 
and improvement, though Nature literally luxuriated in both animal 
and vegetable productions. The buffalo, (bison,) deer, elk, and 
other innocent creatures, had to contend with the various tribes of 
the canine and feline races, and with two, if not three, species of the 
bear. I entered this parallelogram in 1781, or twenty-six years 
after 1755, and, many years after my entrance, Indian murders were 
committed far eastward of Ohio ; and in the now densely inhabited 
vicinity of Washington, in Pennsylvania, I have seen immense 
flocks of the wild turkey and of deer, coming in view, in open day, 
from the houses, and have heard, and that often, the dismal howl of 
the wolf. This may appear incredible to the generation born since, 
and now residing in that beautiful village and active thoroughfare ; 
but I can assure them of another fact, which still more strongly at¬ 
tests the then prevalence of the beasts of the forest. The lower part 
of Washington, in its primitive state, was a very tangled thicket, 
and from that covert I have heard the soul-chilling scream of the 
panther, than which Nature affords no other sound more piercing 
and appalling. The howling of the wolf is music, when compared 
to the screams of a famished panther. Again, in summer the woods 
abounded, indeed writhed, with that most terrific of all reptiles, the 
rattlesnake. These features of desolation, and those commingled 
sounds of horror, rendered to the highest degree dreadful by the 
yells of infuriate savage men, struck upon the eye, and broke upon 
the ear, deepening the solitude of the forest from the St. Lawrence 
to the Mexican gulf. Many are yet living remnants of a past age of 
trial, who can still, in memory, realize deprivation and suffering, of 
which those who have come into life since, can have only a very 
faint, if any conception. 

But, at the interior border of this great parallelogram, we are only 
entering the vast Ohio and Mississippi regions. Let us imagine a 
third line, setting out from Michilimackinac, and passing through St. 
Louis, and thence to the northwestern angle of Louisiana. The 
latter line is very nearly parallel to the two others, and only a few 
miles short of four hundred miles to the northwestward of the middle 
line. This interior parallelogram is also about 1,200 miles in length, 
which, at 380 miles wide, yields an area of 456,000 square miles, 
or something above two and a half more extensive than the prece¬ 
ding. This immense interior oblong comprises the heart of “ the 
Great West,” and contains the extreme western part of New York 
and Pennsylvania, three-fourths of Tennessee, two-thirds of Alabama, 
and half of Arkansas; about one-fourth of Missouri, and one-half of 
Illinois, with all of Louisiana, Mississippi, Kentucky, Indiana, Ohio, 
and Michigan, and now sustains an aggregate population not much, 
if any, under five millions; but which, sixty years ago, did not, 
from the evidence of any document we can now procure, contain on 
its surface 30,000 human beings, savage and civilized. 


REVIEW. 


471 


It was not, however, the desolation which reigned over this vast 
surface, under the shade of whose trees Nature seemed to have con¬ 
cealed, not only her richest, but her accumulated treasures, which 
contributed most to arrest the attention of the very few reflecting 
whites who first penetrated into its recesses ; no, the high problem 
was the character of the native people. This problem has never yet 
received a satisfactory solution, nor do I come before the reader with 
a key to unlock the mystery, but I come with plain facts. I must 
first, nevertheless, assume one postulate, that is, that man is as much, 
and, if good fruit is expected, as necessarily, the object of culture as 
the ground he treads. Man very tenaciously nourishes tares as 
well as wheat, and produces in preference whichever has been first 
sown. 

The scattered Indian tribes had one feature in common, one trait 
of character—a thirst for vengeance; or, in other words, war with 
them was still, and remains so, in its primitive state. Removed as 
they were in many other respects from the rudest savage state, in 
war they were and are unmitigated savages. What have the whites 
done to soften this ferocious spirit? What have the whites done to 
teach the savages the first lessons of humanity, mercy, and protec¬ 
tion to prisoners ? These questions admit of no answer creditable 
to the whites. 

The statistical view already given shows that in numbers the In¬ 
dians of the west were greatly overrated, and I now proceed to show 
that their character, if not overrated, for indeed the contrary was the 
fact, has been very much mistaken. The Indian, with his Mongo- 
lic visage, has an abstracted, contemplative air, which has been 
taken for stupidity, or inattention. If the simple truth had been re¬ 
flected on, that in civilized life the deepest thinkers are persons who 
seem to look inwards, the real character of the Indian would have 
been better understood. As far as their range of ideas extends, they 
think profoundly and reflect with discrimination. 

“ Their fierce and malignant passions,” say some, “ deprive the 
Indians of the benefit of their strong natural reason.” Let this re¬ 
flection be admitted as founded on truth; and then let us read the 
history of European nations in every stage of their moral and intel¬ 
lectual advance ; and then again compare human conduct with hu¬ 
man conduct there, in all ages, and then, if we can, pronounce exclu¬ 
sive condemnation on the Indians for sacrificing themselves and 
enemies to the genius of vengeance. 

Without indulging in epithets, or plunging into theories, we may 
carry our views backwards, and scan the fate of the Indian race, 
since the first Anglo-American colony set foot on the continent of 
North America to this hour. In Virginia, Massachusetts, Plymouth, 
Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania, Georgia, the Carolinas, and 
in the New States, in fine, in all the primitive white settlements, a 
very different policy was pursued with the Indians, and yet one re¬ 
sult has been produced in every one of these colonics—the Indians 
disappeared. Many tribes have utterly perished, and many rem- 


472 


REVIEW. 


nants of other tribes attest still more strongly the melancholy fate of 
this race. The grave of the dead is less striking to our senses, or 
afflicting to our hearts, than is the decrepid, shrivelled, and tremb¬ 
ling aspect of expiring nature. 

In Europe, Ceres preceded Cadmus, and men were taught to 
make bread before they were taught to write. In the Anglo-Ameri¬ 
can colonies, missionaries were placed amongst the Indians, before 
the plough, or rather, indeed, in place of the plough. The benign 
principles of the gospel were spoken to them in theory, and, as a 
commentary, the British and French sought their alliance in mutual 
war. They were made to hear the words of kindness, whilst learn¬ 
ing the use of fire-arms. In words, they were addressed as human 
beings, but, in action, treated, and, as occasion served, used as 
beasts of prey. And this inconsistent policy was in full force when, 
about the middle of the last century, white settlements began to be 
formed west of the Allegheny mountain, or main spine of the Appa¬ 
lachian system. Without stopping in the course of our view to 
speculate on the probable consequences of an opposite or different 
system of measures, we proceed to show the effects of those actually 
pursued. 

Between about 1735 to 1750 the whites passed the Blue Ridge 
and the Allegheny, and southwestvvard of the Susquehanna river.— 
Winchester, in Virginia,- is the oldest town in the Great Valley of 
the United States, between the Blue and Allegheny ridges, and 
southwardly from the upper valley of the Susquehanna. It was a 
trading station as early as 1730, and gradually became a village ; 
and long, within my own recollection, remained the principal place 
where the inhabitants of the higher branches of the Potomac, and 
those in the Youghiogeny and Monongahela, and even the Ohio 
river, made their traffic. In the progress of settlement, and before 
wagons could, without very great difficulty, be conducted over the 
mountains, Winchester and Hagerstown became very important out¬ 
posts and entrepots. 

I may be permitted here to mention a hitherto unnoticed, but, in 
my humble opinion, the greatest difficulty which opposed the settle¬ 
ment of The West: that was, the enormous price of that indispen- 
sible necessary of human life, common culinary salt. Well do I 
remember when salt was from five to ten dollars per bushel, and 
when money was at least double its present value. This burden 
was not of momentary endurance, as it very little abated for upwards 
of thirty years. Many are the now opulent families (some I could 
name) whose grandmothers and grandaunts spun and wove the coarse 
linen which their husbands, fathers and brothers packed over the 
mountains to procure that precious mineral, now so cheap and easily 
purchased. 

Though at far distant and separate points from Wyoming, in 
Pennsylvania, to Holston, in Southwestern Virginia, settlements 
were made previously westward of the main spine of the mountains, 
the real and decisive era of that great interior colonization dates in 


REVIEW. 


473 


1752, when Robert Dinwiddie came to America as Governor of 
Virginia. With this great man (for he well deserves the title) came 
John Stuart and three of iiis step children: one, John Paul, became 
or was a Roman Catholic priest, and, as such, died on the Eastern 
shore of Maryland; the second, Audley Paul, became eminent as a 
British colonial officer; and their sister Mary, afterwards the wife 
of George Mathews, a Colonel in the Revolutionary war, afterwards 
a General, and twice Governor of Georgia. 

The principal circumstance, however, which gave, not alone a 
national, but a universal importance to the administration of Gover¬ 
nor Dinwiddie, was, that it brought on the stage of human action 
one of those men who change permanently the course of history, 
and whose influence extends far beyond their immediate scene of 
operation. George Washington was the third son of Augustine 
Washington, a planter of Westmoreland county, Virginia, and was, 
when Robert Dinwiddie assumed the government of Virginia, in his 
twentieth year. Though young in years, this truly extraordinary 
production of Nature, or of a power above Nature, was then mature 
in intellect far beyond what ordinary men ever reach, and had already 
commenced his military career against the very people w r hose history 
is our theme. 

That smothered fire of the civilized world, the treaty of Aix-la- 
Chapelle, covered up, or, in diplomatic language, signed April 30, 
1748, had, in the language of an elegant and profound historian, 
“ extinguished a devouring flame with one hand, and, with the 
other, collected combustible materials. Nothing more was wanting 
but the death of the King of Spain [Ferdinand VI] to revive war 
and its consequences in Europe, and the least spark would rekindle 
war between France and Great Britain, on account of their limits in 
Canada, which had been left undetermined by vague expressions in 
former treaties.” 

War, indeed, was not to be rekindled in the central region of 
North America ; war, and in its most terrific form, had never ceased 
on that bloody ground. 

But in another paper I must anticipate events, and, using the lan¬ 
guage of a most influential actor, depict the spirit of the times. 

In concluding my last communication I stated that in another 
paper I would have to anticipate events, and, using the language 
of a most influential actor, depict the spirit of the times.— 
Those times were those of “ The French War," so emphatically 
called, and the actor was the Rev. Samuel Davis, in his latter years 
President of Princeton College. This strong-minded man tinctured, 
however, all the pulpit influence he possessed with the deep animosi¬ 
ty of an Englishman of that age, and, of course, coupled the French 
and their Indian allies under one unsparing censure. In a sermon 
preached on the 17th of August, 1755, to Capt. Overton’s Indepen¬ 
dent Company of Volunteers, raised in Hanover county, Virginia, 
the following language is used from the text; 



474 


KEV1EW* 


2 Sam. x. 12. —Be of good courage, and let us play the men for our people, and 

for the cities of our God: and the Lord do that which seemeth him good. 

“ A hundred years of peace and liberty in such a world as this,” 
exclaims the preacher, “ is a very unusual thing; and yet our coun¬ 
try has been the happy spot that has been distinguished with such a 
long series of blessings with little or no interruption. Our situation 
(Virginia) in the middle of the British Colonies, and our separation 
from the French, those eternal enemies of liberty antj Britons, on 
the one side by the vast Atlantic, and on the other by a long ridge 
of mountains and a long and wide-extended wilderness, have, for 
many years, been a barrier to us: and while other nations have been 
involved in war, we have not been alarmed with the sound of the 
trumpet, nor seen garments rolled in blood. 

“ But now the scene is changed ; now we begin to experience, in 
our turn, the fate of the nations of the earth. Our territories are 
invaded by the power and perfidy of France; our frontiers ravaged 
by merciless savages ; and our fellow-subjects, they are murdered 
with all the horrid arts of Indian and Popish torture. Our General 
unfortunately has fallen ; an army of thirteen hundred choice men 
routed ; our fine train of artillery taken ; and all this, (oh, mortify¬ 
ing thought!) all this by four or five hundred dastardly and insidious 
barbarians. 

“ These calamities have not come upon us without warning ; we 
were long ago apprized of the ambitious schemes of our enemies, 
and their motions to carry them into effect; and had we taken timely 
measures, they might have been crushed before they could have 
arrived at such a formidable height. But how have we generally 
behaved in such a critical time ? Alas ! our country has been sunk 
in a deep sleep : a stupid security has unmanned the inhabitants ; 
they could not realize a danger at the distance of three hundred miles; 
could not be persuaded that even French Papists could seriously 
design us an injury ; and hence, little or nothing has been dune for 
the defence of our country, in time, except by the compulsion of 
authority. And now, when the cloud thickens over our heads, and 
alarms every thoughtful mind with its near approach, multitudes, I 
am afraid, are still dissolved in careless security, or enervated with 
an effeminate, cowardly spirit. 

“ When the melancholy news first reached us concerning the fate 
of our army under Braddock, then we saw how natural it is for the 
presumptuous to fall into the opposite extreme of unmanly despon¬ 
dence and consternation ; and how little men could do in such a 
panic for their own defence. We have also suffered our poor fellow- 
subjects, in the frontier counties, to fall a helpless prey to blood¬ 
thirsty savages without affording them proper assistance, which as 

members of the same body politic, they had a right to expect._ 

They might as well have continued in a state of nature as be united 
in society, if, in such an attitude of extreme danger, they are left to 
shift for themselves. The bloody barbarians have exercised on some 
of them the most unnatural and leisurely tortures, and others they 


REVIEW. 


475 


have butchered in their beds, or in some unguarded hour. Can 
human nature bear the horror of the sight ? See yonder the hairy 
scalps clotted with gore ! the mangled limbs l women ripped up ! 
the heart and bowels still palpitating with life, and smoking on the 
ground! See the savages swilling their blood, and imbibing a more 
courageous fury with the human draught! Sure, these are not men; 
they are not beasts of prey ; they are something worse; they must 
be infernal furies in human shape. And have we tamely looked on 
and suffered them to exercise these hellish barbarities upon our 
fellow men, our fellow subjects, our brethren ! Alas ! with what 
horror must we look upon ourselves, as being little better than 
accessories to their blood ! 

“ And shall these savages go unchecked ? Shall Virginia incur 
the guilt and the everlasting shame of tamely exchanging her liberty, 
her religion, and her all, for arbitrary Gallic power, and for Popish 
slavery, tyranny and massacre? Alas! are there none of her 
children that enjoyed all the blessings of her peace, that will espouse 
her cause, and befriend her now in the time of her danger ? Are 
Britons utterly degenerated by so short a remove from their mother 
country ? Is the spirit of patriotism entirely extinguished among 
us ? And must I give thee up for lost, O my country ! and all that 
is included in that important word ? Must I look upon thee as a 
conquered, enslaved province of France, and the range of Indian 
savages ? My heart breaks at the thought. And must ye; our 
unhappy brethren on the frontiers, must ye stand the single barriers 
of a ravaged country, unassisted, unbefriended, unpitied? Alas! 
must I draw these shocking conclusions ? 

“ No ; I am agreeably checked by the happy, encouraging pros¬ 
pect now before me. Is it a pleasing dream ? or do I really see a 
number of brave men—without the compulsion of authority, without 
the prospect of gain—voluntarily associated in a company, to march 
over trackless mountains, the haunts of wild beasts or fierce savages, 
into a hideous wilderness, to succor their helpless fellow-subjects 
and guard their country ? Yes, gentlemen, I see you here upon this 
design ; and were you all united to my heart by the most endearing 
ties of nature or friendship, 1 could not wish to see you engaged in 
a nobler cause.” 

Never did so few words more completely express the moving 
principles of the times ; nor was there ever an address delivered 
more calculated to rouse the latent feelings of the colonists ; and it 
did rouse them to action, and led them on to consequences which 
were far beyond the prophetic foresight, and, at the time of tho 
delivery of his sermon, as far from the wishes of Mr. Davis. But 
another paragraph of this same sermon gained a most important 
historical political notoriety : 

“ Our continent,” exclaims the energetic speaker, ** is like to be¬ 
come the seat of war ; and we, for the future, till sundry nations 
who have planted colonies in it have fixed their boundaries by the 


476 


REVIEW. 


sword, have no other way left to defend our rights and privileges. 
And has God been pleased to infuse some sparks of the martial fire 
through our country ? I hope He has : and though it has been 
almost extinguished by a long peace and a deluge of luxury and 
pleasure, now I hope it begins to kindle ! And may I not produce 
you, my brethren, who are engaged in this expedition, as instances 
of it ? Well ! cherish it as a sacred fire, and let the injuries done 
to your country administer fuel to it, and kindle it in those breasts 
where it has been hitherto smothered or inactive.”— Sermons of the 
Rev. Samuel Davis , vol. v, p. 220 . 

Short of inspiration, a more remarkable consequence was never 
given to any words spoken or written, than time conferred on this 
sermon. It was published not many years after it was delivered, I 
think about 1762, and to the sentence last quoted was appended the 
following note : 

“ As a remarkable instance of this, I may point out to the Public 
that heroic youth, Col. Washington, whom I cannot but hope 
Providence has hitherto preserved in so signal a manner for some 
important services to his country.” 

If suggestions I have more than once heard from aged and intelli¬ 
gent persons were well founded, and I am a convert to their doctrines, 
then this note stands alone in literature as containing the words 
which have had most effect on the fate of human liberty. The note 
itself was first pointed out to me in a cabin near Natchez, by an old 
man, in the year 1801. This man preserved, as a sacred relic, a 
copy of the first edition of the sermon from which the preceding 
quotations have been made. He told me that he was present and 
heard the sermon delivered. From his character and consistency of 
narration, I did not then doubt, in the least, his veracity ; which 
more experience and reading supported. Mr. Davis became Presi¬ 
dent of Princeton College, and his sermons, when published, became 
highly popular. Amongst many who read the sermons, and who 
were well acquainted with the preacher, was Dr. Witherspoon, who 
had much influence in Congress, and, when the appointment of 
Commander-in-chief was discussed, brought the very note quoted 
above forward and decided the appointment in favor of Washington. 

Here a reflection forces itself on my mind, and the reader will 
pardon its expression. The prediction of Mr. Davis was the spark 
which fell on the minds of those who were called on to decide a 
most momentous question, “ Who shall lead our armies to battle 
The name, once pronounced, found an echo from so many hearts 
that the prediction contributed to its own verification. If, however, 
Mr. Davis could have foreseen the nature, extent, and auxiliaries to 
the service which Washington was so signally preserved to perform, 
it must be evident, from the whole strain of his sermons, that he 
would have started back in terror, unless he could have also foreseen 
an entire change in his own political and religious opinions. To 
see Washington, at the head of the provincial and the French armies, 


REVIEW. 


477 


forming the same embattled line to meet and discomfit the British 
legions, and destroy British power over so many of her colonies, 
was far indeed from the hopes of Mr. Davis. His expressions were 
those of a messenger of peace, and yet not one quoted is equal to 
others in his sermons, as to denunciations against the Indians and 
their French allies; and when the conflict began, both, or all parties, 
were instigated by feelings of unsparing vengeance. As far, how¬ 
ever, as the Indians were concerned, how different were the means 
of contest, even when aided by the scattered colonial establishments 
of the French ? On the side of the British, colonies were rapidly 
increasing and much more condensed masses, aided by British fleets 
and armies. As to the Indians, what were they but a few detached 
tribes of savages, which, in the whole aggregate of both sexes, fell 
short of twenty thousand, even allowing for much exaggeration ? 

At this time, when the Indians are crushed, when millions of 
whites reside in the immense regions where once roamed the warrior 
hunter, and when new generations have risen, ought we not to scan 
the past without ? If we place before us the cruelties of the Indian, 
ought we not also to place before us what he has lost and what we 
have won? If we scan the long protracted border warfare as military 
men, can we refuse the meed of admiration for the prowess of a 
handful of naked warriors who maintained “a thirty years ’ war ,” 
with force and other means so very inadequate, upon any principle 
of human calculation ? But to proceed with the direct object of our 
review. 

Even while in the hands of the French, a few Anglo-American 
families had settled near the junction of the Monongahela and Ohio 
rivers ; and there also had been organized a body of men under the 
name of Indian traders; and no other body of men were ever of 
more sinister consequence to their number. Amenable to no tribu¬ 
nal, or under any other legal or moral restraint than their own fears 
of danger or hopes of gain, these traders were ministers of blood.— 
Overrating the value of the Indian trade, to counteract the advance 
of the French, and to seize the traffic from private and murderous 
hands, the British government chartered the Ohio company. Un¬ 
der this corporation the first serious attempts were made by the 
British and Anglo-American colonists to extend settlements to the 
Ohio river. With interests directly opposed, the Ohio company 
and traders could not be otherwise than inimical to each other. To 
circumvent the company, the traders were the real instigators of the 
French in seizing and fortifying the point where the Allegheny and 
Monongahela form the Ohio, which was done in 1754. 

So many and so conflicting have been the accounts and conjec¬ 
tures respecting the defeat of Braddock, and the army he command¬ 
ed, in 1755, that the real causes have been lost in mist. As I am 
not confined to any regular plan of historical narration, the following 
is given as it was given to me. 

In January, 1824, I met James Ross, Esq. of Western Pennsyl¬ 
vania, and whom I had known from my infancy. While recalling 


478 


REVIEW. 


scenes long past, and which, from his much more advanced age and 
experience, Mr. Ross knew so much better, the defeat of Braddock 
was mentioned, and on that subject he observed, “ I can relate what 
was related in my hearing by the Father of his Country,” and then 
proceeded: 

“ In that part of war which consists in watching an enemy,” 
observed Gen. Washington, “ the Indians are perfect, and the army 
commanded by Braddock was watched carefully by Indian spies and 
some French soldiers trained to Indian manners. Independent of 
Indians, there was in Fort du Quesne at the time no force which 
could, with any brobable success, oppose the advancing British and 
provincials, and the French commandant in the fort had expressed 
the necessity of either retreat or surrender. By accident, rather 
than by any design or concert, there were, at the moment, about the 
fort, four or five hundred Indian warriors. Of the French garrison, 
one officer ot inferior rank strenuously urged that, for the honor of 
the French arms, some resistance ought to be made. This young 
man consulted the Indians, who volunteered to the number of about 
four hundred . With much difficulty the young hero obtained 
from his commander permission to lead out to a certain limit such 
French soldiers as chose to join in the desperate enterprise. Of the 
French, about thirty volunteered, and with these four hundred and 
thirty men, the gallant Frenchman marched out to meet more than 
three-fold their number. 

“ In the mean time, every remonstrance by other colonial officers, 
and by Washington himself, was rejected with insult, and Braddock 
advanced as if determined on destruction, and was suffered to pro¬ 
ceed just as far as the enemy desired. Once in the snare, defeat and 
death to near one-half of the whole army, with their infatuated Gen¬ 
eral, was the result. 

“ When the victory was reported to the commandant of Fort du 
Quesne, his transport knew no bounds ; the young hero was received 
with open arms, loaded with the most extravagant honors, and in a 
few days sent to report the victory to the Governor General of Can¬ 
ada. But, behold! when the despatches were opened, they consist¬ 
ed of criminal charges of peculation in his office of Paymaster, and 
of other charges equally criminal. Under these charges this injured 
man was tried, broke, and ruined. So matters rested, until, in the 
Revolutionary war, the subject of Braddock’s defeat happened to 
come into conversation between General AVashington and the 
Marques de Lafayette. In this conversation the real facts were 
stated to Lafayette, who heard them with unqualified astonishment; 
but, with his powerful sense of justice, determining to do all in his 
power to repair what he considered a national act of cruelty and in¬ 
justice, he took and preserved careful notes, and on his return to 
Europe had inquiries made, and the victim was found in a state of 
poverty and wretchedness, broken down by advancing years and 
unmerited obloquy. The affair was brought before the Government 
of France, and, as the real events were made manifest, the officer 
was restored to his rank and honors.” 


REVIEW. 


479 


I do not pretend to have reported the exact words of Mr. Ross, 
nor did he pretend to give verbatim the expressions of Gen. Wash¬ 
ington, but as to the general facts there is no doubt of their truth ; 
and who is to decide the meed of baseness between the two com¬ 
manders on the inside and outside of Fort du Quesne ? Another 
fact, I believe founded in truth. When I was removed by my pa¬ 
rents to the neighborhood, the popular report was, that Braddock 
received his mortal wound from a mm by the name of Fausett.— 
When my father was removing with his family to the west, one of 
the Fausetts kept a public house to the eastward from, and near 
where Uniontown now stands, as the county seat of Fayette, Penn. 
This man’s house we lodged in about the tenth of October, 1781, 
twenty-six years and a few months after Braddock’s defeat, and 
there it was made any thing but a secret that one of the family dealt 
the death-blow to the British general. 

Thirteen years afterwards 1 met Thomas Fausett in Fayette 
county, then, as he told me, in his 70th year. To him I put the 
plain question, and received the plain reply, “ I did shoot him! 1 ' 
He then went on to insist, that, by doing so, he contributed to save 
what was left of the army. In brief, in my youth I never heard the 
fact either doubted or blamed, that Fausett shot Braddock. * 

* To the Editors o f the Baltimore Chronicle :— 

Seeing in your paper of yesterday morning an article copied from the National 
Intelligencer, relating to the manner in which Gen. Hraddock lost his life, and as it 
is at variance with the generally received opinion derived from official accounts of 
the battle in which he fell, 1 have thought that the publication of a letter from his 
aid-de-camp, Capt. Orme, in my possession, addressed to Governor Sharpe, and 
bearing a semi-official character, might prove interesting to your readers, am) 
suggest a doubt of his having fallen by assassination. The circumstance of having 
had five horses shot under him shows his situation perilous enough to lead to the 
supposition that the wound which killed him was from the fire of the enemy by 
which his little army was surrounded. a subschiheu. 

Foht Cum beuland, July, IS, 1755. 

My Dear Sin: I am so extremely ill in bed with the wound I have received in 
my thigh, that 1 am under the necessity of employing my friend, Capt. Dobson, to 
write for me. 

I conclude yon have had some account of the action near the banks of the .Monon- 
galiela, about seven miles from the French fort; as the reports spread are very im¬ 
perfect, what you have heard must be so too. You should have had more early 
accounts of it, but every officer whose business it was to have informed you, was 
either killed or wounded, and our distressed situation puts it out of our power to 
attend to it so much as we would otherwise have done. 

The 9th instant we passed and repassed the Monongahela, by advancing first a 
party of 300 men, which was immediately followed by another of 200. The Gen. 
with the column of artillery, baggage, and the main body of the army, passed the 
river the last time about one o’clock. As soon as the whole had got on the fort side 
of the Monongahela, we heard a very heavy and quick fire in our front; we imme¬ 
diately advanced in order to sustain them, hut the detachment of the 200 and 300 
men gave way and fell back on us, which raused such confusion and struck so great 
a panic among our men, that afterwards no military expedient could be made use of 
that had anv effect on them ; the men were so extremely deaf to the exhortations of 
the General and the officers, that they fired away in the most irregular manner all 
their ammunition, and then ran off, leaving to the enemy the artillery, ammunition, 
provisions, and baggage; nor could they be persuaded to stop till they got as lar as 
Guest’s plantation, nor there only a part, many of them proceeding as far as Colonel 
Dunbar’s party, who lay six miles on this side. The officers were absolutely 
sacrificed by their unparalleled good behavior, advancing sometimes in bodies and 

41 


480 


REVIEW. 


Leaving this worthless minion of a corrupt court to the unenvia¬ 
ble niche he holds in history, we may say with safety that few, rf 
any, defeats ever produced comparatively more destructive conse¬ 
quences. The exertions, principally made by the Government and 
Colony of Virginia, which then claimed the country watered by the 
Monongahela to its mouth, and also the adjacent country, to raise 
troops to retake possession, in conjunction with a force of British 
regulars, encouraged settlers. The defeat of the combined army 
gave, for three years, all that is now west Pennsylvania and west 
Virginia to the Indians, and exposed the white emigrants to destruc¬ 
tion; yet, incredible as it may appear, even then settlers pressed 
into the fearful void, in which, at every step, the form of an Indian 
might be expected to burst forth, the minister of death or of captivity. 

In my last, I concluded with noticing the disastrous consequences 
to the frontier settlements, of Braddock’s defeat, and the yet irresist- 

sometimes separately, hoping by such example to engage the soldiers to follow them, 
but to no purpose. 

The General had five horses shot under him, and at last received a wound through 
his right arm into his lungs, of which he died the 18th instant. Poor Shirley was 
shot through the head, Captain Morris wounded. Mr. Washington had two horses 
shot’under him, and his clothes shot through in several places, behaving the whole 
time with the greatest courage and resolution. Sir Peter Hacket was killed on the 
spot, Col. Burton and Sir John St. Clair wounded, and enclosed I have sent you a 
list of the killed and wounded according to as exact an account as we are able to get. 

Upon our proceeding with the whole convoy to the Little Meadows, it was found 
impracticable to advance in that raannet ; the General therefore advanced with 
twelve hundred men, with the necessary artillery, ammunition, and provision, leav¬ 
ing the main body of the convoy under the command of Col. Dunbar, with orders 
to join him as soon as possible. In this manner we proceeded with safety and ex¬ 
pedition till the fatal day I have just related, and happy it was that this disposition 
was made; otherwise the whole must have either starved or fallen into the hands oi 
the enemy, as numbers would have been of no service to us, and our provision was 
all lost. 

As our number of horses was so much reduced, and those extremely weak, and 
many carriages being wanted for the wounded men, occasioned our destroying the 
ammunition and superfluous part of the provisions left in Col. Dunbar’s convoy, to 
prevent its falling into the hands of the enemy. 

As the w hole of the artillery is lost, and the troops are so extremely weakened by 
deaths, wounds, and sickness, it is judged impossible to make any further attempts ; 
therefore Col. Dunbar is returning to Port Cumberland, with every thing he is able 
to bring with him. 

I propose remaining here until my w'ound will suffer me to remove to Philadel¬ 
phia; from thence I shall make all possible despatch to England. Whatever com¬ 
mands you may have for me you will do me the favor to direct to me here. 

I am, with the greatest sincerity, your most obidient and most humble servant, 

ROBERT OR ME. 

By the particular disposition of the French and Indians, it is impossible to judge 
of the numbers they had that day in the field. 

As the General’s chariot is to be disposed of, I should be glad to know if you 
would have it again. It has been at this place since our departure from hence. If 
vou propose taking it again, I will send it to you, and bring the General’s coach 
back. Capt. Winn’s compliments attend you, with Mr. Washington’s. 

P. S. Writing to you as a friend, 1 flatter myself you will excuse the hurry in 
which this is wrote. 

To the Hon. Gov. Sharpe. 


Messrs. Gales be Seaton : In the last column of the National Intelligencer of 
the 27th July, I see a letter, under the head of “ Jiracldock’s Death,” written by a 




REVIEW. 


481 


able disposition of the whites to press into a country where ruthless 
savages were to be feared at every step. But even in 1703, when 
peace was made between Great Britain and France, the Ohio region 
was, with very partial exceptions, unknown to the whites. About 
1750, a man of the name of Gist was sent out from Virginia by the 
Ohio company. The narrative of this man’s journey is now before 
me, and goes far to prove that the existence of the Monongahela 
river was then unknown in Virginia. He set out from the south 
branch of the Potomac, proceeded northward to the heads of Juni¬ 
ata river, crossed the mountains, and reached the Allegheny, then 
called Ohio, by the valley of the Kiskeminetas. He crossed the 
Allegheny about four miles above the Forks where Pittsburg now 
stands, and must have passed through the high gorge now occupied 
by Allegheny town, the Hill where the Seminary stands concealing, 
as it does yet, from the valley, the mouth of the Monongahela, of 

Capt. Dobson, but dictated by Capt. Orme, both, it appears, officers under Braddock. 
I have read that letter carefully and twice, and am greatly at a loss to see in it the 
grounds on which “ A Subscriber ” has deduced from ita doubt of the manner stated 
by me by which Braddock received bis mortal wound. I never either heard or 
read a suggestion against the personal courage of Braddock, and, from all which is 
generally known concerning him, it is probable that on the Plains of Flanders, as 
a Colonel or Brigadier, under a more able officer, be was well qualified to shine. 
But, placed in the western forests, and opposed to an enemy whose modes of war¬ 
fare gave them so many advantages, he was worse than misplaced. 

In regard to the statements I have already given, they were attended with my 
authorities, and I might have added to part of the information stated in Capt. 
Orrae’s letter; that is, that Braddock rode over the ground like a madman much 
more than like a General, and cutting and slashing at his own men —one of those a 
brother of Fausett. 

Capt. Orme does not inform us which they were, British regulars or Provincials, 
who composed the 200 to .300 men w ho gave way, and, refusing to rally, completed the 
defeat. The whole of the letter, however, corresponds with the traditionary ac¬ 
counts I have heard of the battle in which Braddock fell. There are, however, some 
suggestions I would beg leave to make to the readers of these statements. First, 
Capt. Orme’s letter was written just nine days after the battle, and twenty years 
before the American Revolution. The man who openly, after the Revolution, 
avowed, and justified to himself at least, having shot Braddock, would have been 
worse than mad to make any such acknowledgments until British authority was 
removed from over his head. 1'he real cause of Braddock’s death could not have 
been known until after the Revolution. I have not asserted except what l have 
heard, and with that evidence my owm convictions, and I must have stronger testi¬ 
mony than Capt. Orme’s letter to remove impressions founded on what I never 
heard doubted in the country where the event took place, and in the lifetime of not 
only the actor, but many others who had been in the so much celebrated 
“ Braddock’s Defeat.” 

For many and painful reasons, the circumstances then related in my presence, 
child as L was, were too deeply engraven to be forgotten. As far as I can now fix 
the date of the night I was with my father and mother at Fausett’s, it w as about the 
12th of October, 1781, only a tew weeks more than twenty-six years after the death 
of Braddock. My father, who had seen General Braddock in Europe, was rather 
more inquisitive than probably he would otherwise have been—not from any great 
respect for the man, for he appreciated him very correctly. In fine, it is notone of 
the most important points in history to determine how a desperate man fell, whose 
obstinacy was exposing hundreds of others to death , but it is something remarkable 
how strongly the tradit onary account is supported by the historical. As Fausett 
stated, unless Braddock fell, the whole army must have been killed or taken. And 
dreadful indeed was the state of those w ho were wounded and made prisoners. 
Col. .lames Smith, who was then a prisoner in Fort du Quesne, gives an account of 
the torturing of those brought in, at which the soul sickens. It is surely a mis¬ 
application of terms to call the shooting down of such a man, under such circum¬ 
stances, assassination. A traveller. 


482 


REVIEW. 


which Mr. Gist makes no mention. Had he known the existence 
and general range of the Monongahela valley, it is extremely impro¬ 
bable that he would not have followed that route. The further routfe 
of Mr. Gist was down the Ohio to some point below Beaver river, 
and thence over to the Muskingum valley, westward to the Great 
Miami, called by him Miniami. On his return he crossed the 
Ohio at the mouth of the Scioto, and thence over what he names 
the Cuttawa country, now Kentucky, and by western Virginia and 
North Carolina, to the Potomac. The Monongahela and its branch¬ 
es, from position, did not lie in any of even the great Indian routes; 
they therefore lay concealed until reached by the slowly adva ncing 
settlements of Virginia. 

The first account we have of emigrants reaching those recesses, 
states that in 1754 David Tygart reached and settled on that branch 
of the Monongahela now called Tygart’s Valley river, from this 
primitive settler. About the same time a man of the name of Files 
settled on the same stream near the site of Beverly, county seat of 
Randolph. The Files family, one excepted, fell victims to savage 
barbarity. Young Files escaped, and, hastening to Tygart’s, that 
family made a timely retreat and did not return for many years 
afterwards. 

The time had however arrived, when the inevitable passing of the 
mountains was to be made by the Anglo-Saxon race The termina¬ 
tion of a century and a half from the original colonization of Virgi¬ 
nia was about closing when Redstone Fort was founded. This then 
outpost of civilization was built on a high bank, on the eastern side 
of the Monongahela, below the mouth of Dunlop’s creek, and where 
the two fine borough towns now stand, Brownsville below, and 
Bridgeport above the creek. This was the first effectual step taken 
towards actual and permanent settlement of that beautiful, pictu¬ 
resque, and fertile region between the Appalachian mountains and 
the Ohio river. 

The warrior, with his gun, hatchet and knife, prepared alike to 
slay the deer and bear for food, and also to defend himself against 
and destroy his savage enemy, was not the only kind of man who 
sought these wilds. A very interesting and tragic instance was 
given of the contrary by the three brothers Eckarlys. These men, 
Dunkards by profession, left the eastern and cultivated parts of 
Pennsylvania, and plunged into the depths of the western wilderness. 
Their first permanent camp was on a creek flowing into the Monon¬ 
gahela river, in the southwestern part of Pennsylvania, to which 
stream they gave the name of Dunkard creek, which it still bears. 
These men of peace employed themselves in exploring the country 
in every direction, in which one vast, silent and uncultivated waste 
spread around them. From Dunkard’s creek these men removed to 
Dunkard’s bottom, on Cheat river, which they made their permanent 
residence, and, with a savage war raging at no considerable distance, 
they spent some years unmolested ; indeed, it is probable, unseen. 

In order to obtain some supplies of salt, ammunition and clothing . 


REVIEW. 


483 


Dr. Thomas Eckarly recrossed the mountains with some peltry.— 
On his return from Winchester to rejoin his brothers, he stopped on 
the South branch of the Potomac, at Fort Pleasant, and roused the 
curiosity of the inhabitants by relating his adventures, removals, and 
present residence. His avowed pacific religious principles, as pa¬ 
cific religious principles have every where else done, exposed him 
to suspicion, and he was detained as a confederate of the Indians, 
and as a spy come to examine the frontier and its defences. In vain 
did Dr. Eckarly assert his innocence of any connexion with the 
Indians, and that, on the contrary, neither he nor his brothers had 
even seen an Indian since their residence west of the mountains.— 
He could not obtain his liberty until, by his own suggestion, he was 
escorted by a guard of armed men, who were to reconduct him a 
prisoner to Fort Pleasant, in case of any confirmation of the charges 
against him. 

These arbitrary proceedings, though in themselves very unjust, it 
is probable, saved the life of Dr. Eckarly, and his innocence was 
made manifest in a most shocking manner. Approaching the cabin 
where he had left and anxiously hoped to find his brothers, himself 
and his guard were presented with a heap of ashes. In the yard 
lay the mangled and putrid remains of the two brothers, and, as if 
to add to the horrors of the scene, beside the corpses lay the hoops 
cn which their scalps had been dried. Dr. Eckarly and the now 
sympathising men buried the remains, and not a prisoner, but a for¬ 
lorn and desolate man, he returned to the South Branch. This was 
amongst the opening scenes of that lengthened tragedy which was 
acted through upwards of thirty years. 

Decker’s settlement was made on Decker’s creek, a confluent of 
the Monongahela, in 1758, under the direction of Thomas Decker, 
but was in the ensuing year surprised by a savage party, and most 
of the inhabitants murdered. One of the men composing Decker’s 
settlement escaped, and reached Redstone Fort, then commanded by 
Captain Paul, who, being too weak to spare men to pursue the In¬ 
dians, despatched an express to Fort Pitt, which had a short time 
before fallen into possession of the British and Provincials under 
Gen. Forbes. 

In the mean time, the murderers of the people of Decker’s settle¬ 
ment had escaped, though Captain Gibson, the commander at Fort 
Pitt, marched promptly across the country, with thirty men, if pos¬ 
sible, to get in their front. But, if Gibson failed to come up with 
or intercept those he was in pursuit of, very unexpectedly to both 
parties, he fell in with Kiskephila, (Little Eagle,) a Mingo chief, and 
six or seven more warriors. The meeting took place on Indian 
Cross creek, near the present fine town of Stubenville. Captain 
Gibson, early in the morning, and whilst some of the Indians had 
not risen, came suddenly on the party. Kiskclpila, who was the 
first to spy Gibson, raised the war whoop, and discharged his rille. 
The ball cut Gibson’s hunting-shirt, and wounded a soldier; but, 
drawing his cutlass, the Captain rushed forward, and, by a gigantic 
41* 


484 


REVIEW. 


swing, severed the head from the body of Kiskepila ; two other In¬ 
dians fell, and the others escaped. 

The act of cutting off the head of the Mingo chief, by the sword 
and arm of Captain Gibson, was productive of some melancholy and 
some curious effects. At the final restoration of prisoners, after the 
treaty of 1763, some white persons who were in the Mingo villages 
when the remnant of Kiskepila’s party returned, stated that these 
warriors reported that their chief was killed with a “ big knife .”— 
A death dance was then performed, at which several white persons 
were doomed to death, to revenge the dead chief. Amid their horrid 
orgies, bitter and bloody were their threats of vengeance against 
“ the big knife warriors .” 

Thus stood the now unsurpassed country on the Upper Ohio in 
1758 and 1759. Fort Pitt, with a feeble garrison, and Redstone, 
with one still more feeble, were the outposts of civilization. The 
main spine of the mountain was really the frontier, as the two out¬ 
posts of Redstone and Fort Pitt were far in advance of the settle¬ 
ments, except a very few cabins, the inhabitants of which had the 
Indian hatchet impending every moment over their heads. The 
Monongahela was then the Rubicon; all beyond was silent or 
hostile. 

Similar was the line from Pittsburg to Georgia. The settlements 
on the Upper Roanoke, where Salem, in Bottetourt county, Va., 
now stands, had been surprised in 1757, and the inhabitants mostly 
murdered. A fort had been established on Jackson’s river, a branch 
of James river, by order of Governor Dinwiddie, and known by his 
name. As soon as the massacre on the Roanoke was made known 
to him, Dinwiddie ordered a detachment of regulars from the fort on 
Jackson’s river to join several militia detachments from the counties 
along the frontier, and the whole to form an army under the com¬ 
mand of Andrew Lewis. The plans of Governor Dinwiddie evinced 
a knowledge of the Indian character, of their country, and the inter¬ 
mediate country between their villages and the white frontier settle¬ 
ments of Virginia and North Carolina, which must have been ac¬ 
quired by placing confidence and receiving advice from intelligent 
men of those colonies, and who had, on their part, obtained such 
knowledge by experience. The policy of Governor Dinwiddie and 
his counsellors was, to form a strong line of forts along the Ohio; 
and, had this wise and humane system been adopted and pursued, 
what streams of blood and tears would have been stayed ! 

In the instance before us, the army under General Andrew Lewis 
was formed and marched to attain two objects : First, to chastise 
the Indians : but, secondly, to effect a far more important purpose— 
that was, to establish a military post at or near the mouth of the 
Big Sandy. With much delay, from various obstacles, the season 
was far advanced before this little army reached a point on Sandy 
river, within a few miles above its entrance into the Ohio. What 
would have been the final result of the expedition, had it been per¬ 
mitted to advance, can never be known ; as, at this critical epoch, 


REVIEW. 


485 


Francis Fauquier succeeded Dinwiddie in the government of Virgi¬ 
nia, and marked the commencement of his administration by order¬ 
ing the regular troops back to Fort Dinwiddie, and the militia to re¬ 
turn to their homes. 

This was one of the innumerable vexatious and capricious mea¬ 
sures of the British Colonial officers, which, in an especial manner, 
irritated the frontier, and, in war, far most formidable portion of the 
population. Had the Viceroy Fauquier followed up in good faith 
the wise and humane designs of his predecessor, and combined, as 
both duty and good sense would have taught him to do, the British 
and Colonial forces, a strong garrison, impregnable to Indians, could 
have been established on the Ohio, near the Great Bend, above the 
mouth of the Great Sandy. Any person who nowcasts a glance on 
a general map of the Ohio Valley, and, with its entire surface, com¬ 
pares this peculiar position, must have no doubt of its utility in pro¬ 
tecting the frontier. On the other hand, however, when the ruling 
authorities of Great Britain not only refused to co-operate, but op¬ 
posed such a plan, it would have been, in the then state of colonial 
dependence, the utmost rashness on the part of General Lewis to 
have advanced into the Indian country with his provincials. On 
the part of Fauquier, his proceedings were guided by no better mo¬ 
tives than the mere insolence of power; but, though he defeated one 
of the few judicious plans of the British Viceroys in North America, 
he enkindled a flame which burned with consuming retaliation in 
the Revolutionary war. 

About 1766, settlements of whites were extended to the Holslon 
river, and amongst the men who thus dared an advance were, Evan 
Shelby, William Campbell, and Daniel Boon. It is singular that 
the sons of Shelby, Campbell, and Preston were the leaders of 
“ The Provincials ,” as the British chose to call them, in the battle 
of King’s Mountain; and, also, that from the very country left ex¬ 
posed by the cold-hearted Fauquier, issued, twenty-three years after 
his mandate, that terrible corps which, on the 7th of October, 1780, 
dealt death to Col. Ferguson and his tory troops. 

In another paper I shall follow Gen. Lewis, his army, and subse¬ 
quent events of Western History, to “ The Moravian Massacre 

In my last I concluded at the point of time when General Lewis 
and his provincial army received, on the bank of the Big Sandy, the 
order from Governor Fauquier to retreat. This order produced a 
council of war, in which most of the officers insisted on prosecuting 
their expedition. Some felt and insisted on the necessity of yield¬ 
ing to superior power. A compromise was agreed upon, and the 
army marched to the banks of the Ohio river, and was no doubt the 
first Anglo-Saxon force which ever reached that stream below a few 
miles from Pittsburg. 

With heavy hearts they proceeded—more or less the case in all 
retreats ; but in this a complication of reasons existed to appal the 
bravest hearts, and superinduce depression. Winter had set in; 
41 ** 



486 


REVIEW. 


their provisions were exhausted, and ammunition, their resource for 
food, was scanty; and thus were they to retrace three hundred 
miles, over rapid rivers, in pathless forests, and over high and rugged 
mountains. 'To these were added the still more fearful dangers from 
hoveriug Indian, who in fact were soon found on their flanks. In 
these dreadful circumstances, orders were issued forbidding either 
shooting or kindling tires, forcing the men to perish with hunger to 
save themselves from being shot by their enemies. Many did perish 
with cold and hunger. Their famished pack-horses, their buffalo- 
hide thongs, the strings of their moccasins, and belts, were usee for 
food. Under such circumstances of suffering did the remnant of 
this gallant army reach their homes and friends. Many of the sur¬ 
vivors lived, however, to gain a terrible vengeance in the Revolu¬ 
tionary war on those they regarded, and that justly, as their worst 
enemies, the British officers. 

Those compacts called treaties rather aggravated than relaxed hos¬ 
tility, or mitigated savage war, which so long raged along the fron¬ 
tiers, from the sources of the Susquehanna to the furthest bounds of 
the settlements of Georgia. Between the frontier inhabiiauts and 
the Indians, under their respective conditions, no peace could exist, 
and it was by no means an uncommon occurrence for persons to be 
murdered returning from treaties. 

One feature in the Indian military character began to be revealed, 
and contributed greatly to the advantage of the whites. It was 
found that the slightest fortification could be defended against those 
sons of the woods, who seemed to have no idea of using themselves 
any defensive shelter in war but “ the tree." To this advantage the 
ferocious and faithless character of the Indians added another. It 
was soon, and in letters of blood, demonstrated that to surrender to 
them was to meet certain death. The knowledge of that trait in 
savage character, which afforded the whites knowledge of the neces¬ 
sary resistance, was indeed dearly purchased. We may mention 
some instances. 

About 1760, at or near where Franklin, the seat of justice of Pen¬ 
dleton county, Va., now stands, and on or near the south fork of the 
south branch of the Potomac, was situated Sivert’s Fort. About 
forty persons, men, women and children, had taken refuge in this 
place of defence. The people within were becoming careless after 
the first alarm, but were suddenly assailed by a large body of Indians. 
Capt. Sivert prevented the people in the fort from firing on the In¬ 
dians, proposing to attempt a negotiation under a flag. This pro¬ 
ceeding, though much opposed, he carried into effect, and the 
Indians readily consented to retire peaceably on receiving certain 
presents or ransom ; but, to test their kindly feelings, the for!, was 
to be opened, that they might shake hands with the people within. 
These stipulations were complied with, and the gales thrown open, 
and an almost indiscriminate massacre followed. The number, of 
all ages and both sexes, which in this case fell victims to the folly 
and timidity of their commander, amounted to about forty. 


1 


REVIEW. 


487 


In 17G1, the Indians penetrated into the country on the head of 
Janies river, committed many murders, and led captive several 
whites. On this occasion, one man narrowly escaped death, hut 
lived to perform important services in the Revolutionary war. This 
was George Mathews, already mentioned. 

To give any thing like a detailed account of every transaction at¬ 
tending the primitive settlements in the vales and westward of the 
Appalachian mountains, I have already observed, comes not within 
the scope or view with which I have commenced these sketches.— 
My object was to depict, by a few striking incidents, the times, and 
show the hardships under which those now smilinjr regions were 
originally settled by the whites ; and to show, also, that, to an im¬ 
mense extent, the interior was in fact a waste, utterly uninhabited 
by’ man previous to the entrance of the Anglo-Saxon Americans.— 
The residue of this paper shall be employed to give a sketch of the 
so-much-talked- of but little understood tragedy, “ The murder of the 
Mo ravian Indians on the Tuscarawas .” 

The murder of the Moravians has become the index and title to 
the history of one of those border events which I the more particu¬ 
larly mention, as 1 am convinced that the causes which led to that 
catastrophe have not been well preserved in recollection, even in the 
country from which the actors proceeded. In advance, I may ob¬ 
serve, that one man’s name, David Williamson, lias become a pro¬ 
verb of obloquy, who was not simply innocent, but most bitterly 
deplored the event, and who, though nominally commander, was 
utterly powerless to arrest the slaughter. Here I must so far pre¬ 
sume as to mention, that when the Moravians were destroyed, I was 
residing with my parents, near Washington, the county' seat of 
Washington county, Penn., and that with many of the actors I was 
well acquainted in after-life. Though very young at the time, the 
events were and remain deeply engraven on my memory. But to 
proceed. 

Early' in 1780, aided by the British from Canada with the material 
of Avar, and also with individual whites to direct their operations, 
two bodies of savages were formed to invade the frontier settlements. 
The main body was destined to penetrate into Kentucky, and the 
other into Western Pennsylvania and Northwestern Virginia. That 
against Kentucky crossed the Ohio, and was actually commanded by 
a British Colonel, (Byrd.) The taking, plundering, and destroying 
Ruddell’s and Martin’s stations, attended with the cold-blooded mur¬ 
der of many of the inhabitants, marked the victory and infamy of 
the royal officer. 

The upper division, mostly if not altogether formed of Indians, 
were to be again divided into two sub-bodies of one hundred and fifty 
each ; the lower to cross the Ohio below Wheeling, and the other 
near the mouth of Raccoon, and both to proceed cautiously, but ex¬ 
peditiously, to Catlishlown, (Washington,) the whole country to be 
made one scene of blood and ruin. Why the upper division failed 
in effecting a passage over the Ohio river was, no doubt, the fear of 


488 


REVIEW. 


forts Pitt and McIntosh. The lower or right column crossed and 
penetrated to within a few miles of Catfishtown, though discovered 
soon after crossing the river. By a curious though natural cause, 
the inhabitants near the Ohio suffered much less than those deeper in 
the settlements, on the heads of the Wheeling and Ten Mile creeks. 
The former, feeling the extent of their danger, rushed to the shelter 
of Wheeling and Shepheard’s Forts, whilst the latter, more secure 
from the fancied distance from danger, were many of them surprised 
and either killed or captured. 

No information reaching this invading party of the advance of 
their friends from Raccoon, they became alarmed, and concluded to 
retreat; but, exasperated by disappointment, their natural ferocity 
rose to fury, and the massacre, with circumstances of horror beyond all 
descriptive language, of their male prisoners was put into execution. 

Those who may never before have learned the fact of this massa¬ 
cre, and who now reside on the spot of its occurrence, may feel 
some astonishment when they are told that on the head-waters of 
Wheeling, lathers, husbands and brothers were led forth amid the 
agonizing screams of wives, mothers and sisters, bound to trees, and 
mangled and tortured to death. 

“ Barbarities such as these,” says Mr. Withers, in his Border 
Warfare, when speaking, of the event, “had considerable influence 
on the temper and disposition of the inhabitants of the country.— 
They gave birth to a vindictive feeling in many, which led to the 
perpetration of similar enormities, and sunk civilized man to the 
level of the barbarian.” 

True, and would it not be the very topmost height of stupidity to 
indulge wonder at the effect? This was only one of the many mas¬ 
sacres in which whole families fell, but it was the crowning outrage, 
arid sealed the fate of the Christian Indians on the Tuscarawas, two 
years afterwards. Indeed, revengeful feelings were never suffered 
to subside. Colonels Clarke and Broadhead’s expeditions took 
place in 1780, and rather distressed and irritated than tended to 
break the force of the Indians. Constantly recurring murders were 
taking place along the Ohio frontier ; and if it was then possible, 
the enraged feelings of the whites were daily becoming more invet¬ 
erate. Under such circumstances, it was the consummation of fatu¬ 
ity, on the part of the Moravian Missionaries, to suffer the Christian 
Indians to remain on the Muskingum, directly between two parties 
mutually exasperated to the utmost extreme of revengeful determina¬ 
tion. The Moravians, as a matter of course, became suspected 
equally by both parties, and obnoxious to all the bitter resentments 
of each belligerant. 

Prudent persons, both white and Indian, advised the temporary 
removal of the Moravian Indians, and anticipated their danger unless 
such a measure was adopted ; and those on either side who were 
most earnest in recommending this measure were those who had 
least suspicion of sinister conduct on the part of this people. Amongst 
those of the whites who were most anxious and active in this matter 


REVIEW, 


489 


was David Williamson. This man, in the autumn of 1781, headed 
a party who went to their towns to remove this people, but who 
found the towns nearly deserted. The few who were found were 
made prisoners, and conducted to Pittsburg. Before the arrival of 
Col. Williamson on the Muskingum, the Mingo King had reached 
the Moravian towns on a similar errand, and had, partly by persua¬ 
sion, and partly by force, conveyed the bulk of the inhabitants to 
the Indian towns; many of them went to Detroit. Thus stood 
matters until the spring of the eventful year of 1782. Had the most 
humble maxims of common sense been adopted, no attempt would 
have been made or permission given to this people to return to their 
dangerous position until their safety could have been secured by a 
general peace. But, by a strange finality, those at Pittsburg were 
first liberated, and then those at Detroit, and both rushed to destruc¬ 
tion. “ The revengeful feelings,” says most truly Mr. Withers, 
“ which had been engendered by inevitable circumstances, towards 
the Moravians, and which had given rise to the expedition of 1781, 
under Col. Williamson, were still more deeply excited by subse¬ 
quent events. In the night after their liberation from Fort Pitt, the 
family of a Mr. Mortour were all killed or taken captive ; and the 
outrage occurring so immediately alter they were set at liberty, and 
in the vicinity of where they were, was very generally attributed to 

them. An irruption was made, too, in the fall of 1781, into the 
settlements on Buffalo Creek, and some murders committed and 
prisoners taken. One of these, escaping from captivity and return¬ 
ing soon after, declared that the party committing the aggression 
was headed by a Moravian warrior.” 

Early in the spring of 1782, Capt. Hawkins was killed on Buffalo 
Creek, about fourteen miles westward from Washington, and almost 
at the same time, and near the same place, a Mr. Wallace, with his 
wife and five children, were murdered. It was in the very heat of 
excitement, and when the sanguinary events of the few preceding 
years were all brought into recollection, that early in March, 1782, 
a body of volunteers, headed by David Williamson, assembled, to 
the number of near one hundred, at the Mingo bottom. Col. Wil¬ 
liamson had been severely censured for his lenity to the Moravians 
the preceding year. As I always understood the matter, if there was 

then, exasperated as the people were, any thought of other injury to 
the Moravians than their captivity, such intention was concealed 
from the public. Apprehensions did exist, and were expressed, 
that the men, with the form and dress of Indians before them, might 
remember their murdered relations, become enraged, and commit 
violence. The avowed, and 1 firmly believe the real intention of 
the far greater part of the men composing the expedition which 
eventuated such tragic circumstances, was to remove the Moravians 
to Pittsburg, and, by destroying the houses and provisions, deprive 
the hostile savages of food and shelter. 

The Indians made no resistance, but quietly submitted to be re¬ 
moved. Some clothing known to have belonged to persons who had 


490 


REVIEW. 


been murdered eastward of the Ohio river was found, and, when 
shown to the Moravians, their observations were, that they could 
not prevent the hostile Indians from stopping in their villages and 
leaving their plunder. Here was another instance exposing the 
Missionaries to severe and just blame. The poor, demi-civilized 
and peaceable Indians of Gnadenhutten, Schoenbrun, and Salem, 
were completely under the influence of their Christian teachers, and 
those teachers were really guilty of a most flagrant negligence, to 
say the least of their conduct. These men were careful to remem¬ 
ber and active to spread over the Christian world the turpitude of 
those who destroyed the Moravians, but they were as careful to say 
nothing ol their own shameful neglect of every principle of prudence 
in regard to a people they ought to have considered providentially 
placed under their guidance and protection. 

While preparing for their departure, some other untoward circum¬ 
stances took place—some few attempted to escape, and were shot 
down. But why dwell on the horrid, the disgraceful, though natural 
scene! Ninety-six unresisting men, women, and children fell in 
one common slaughter, and their humble dwellings were made 
smoking ruins. The perpetrators, to my own knowledge, were 
severely blamed, and never recovered their standing in society. 
That voice, which has been, no doubt justly, called the voice of God, 
branded the transaction with the indelible title of “ The Moravian 
Massacre .” 

In 1799, when the remnant of the Moravians were recalled by the 
United States, I was graphically told by a young man of the name 
of Carr, who was present when they arrived at Gnadenhutten, that 
an old Indian man walked over the desolate scene, and showed to 
the white man an excavation, which had formely been a cellar, and 
in which were still some mouldering bones of the victims, though 
seventeen years had passed since their tragic death. With tears 
in his own eyes, Mr. Carr said the tears fell down the wrinkled face 
of the aged child of the Tuscarawas upon the relics of his relations. 
The murder of the Moravians, and the causes which led to it, as 
well as the restoration of a remnant, are amongst the most early and 
most strongly-impressed of my recollections. Those days of blood, 
tears, deprivation are now happily gone forevermore, we may hope. 
It was, however, a lengthened period of horror, as the hostile spirit 
kept in excitement from the end of “the French war” was not 
fostered more by the Indians than by the whites ; and, if we allow 
for the pretences of religion and superior civilization, the palm of 
treachery and cruelty was really due to the whites. There was not 
any year from 1752 to the treaty of Greenville—may we not say to 
this moment, July, 1839, or through eighty-seven years—in which 
murder, to a greater or lesser extent, was not perpetrated by one or 
botli of these irreconcilable parties. 

In 1755, the Moravians on Lehigh, at where Lehighton now stands, 
were surprised and murdered by a party of hostile savages from 
Canada. In 1764, in March, “ the Manor Indians ,” or “ the 


REVIEW. 


491 


Moravian Indians residing at Liliz, near Lancaster, Pennsylvania, 
were murdered by a party of whites called “Paxton Boys” with 
attending circumstances of peculiar atrocity, particularly if we decide 
by our modern estimates ol the deed. The men who committed the 
act were mostly from the neighborhood where I was born, and one 
of the principals lived until within a few years past. Well do I re¬ 
member to hear the destruction of “ the Manor Indians ” receive a 
very different title from that of murder. The act, however, never, 
at any time, could be justly viewed in any other light than that of a 
wanton waste of human blood, without any adequate object. But to 
show the feelings of the times on this very point, I insert the follow¬ 
ing, which 1 have repeatedly heard told, and of its entire truth 1 have 
not a shadow of doubt: Amongst the men who destroyed the Manor 
Indians, there were two brothers, both married men, but one with¬ 
out children. The childless brother saved a small Indian child, or 
rather attempted to save it, as his brother stepped up to him, and 
asked him ‘ What he had got there V ‘A pet,’ he replied, ‘ which 

I am going to take home to-,’ pronouncing the name of his wife. 

The words had scarce passed his mouth, when the tomahawk of the 
brother was dashed into the child’s brains, and its innocent blood 
sprinkled over its protector! 

The perpetrator of this dreaful deed I have often sem, and never 
learned that, in after and common life, there was any peculiar atrocity 
remarked in his character, but rather the reverse. Such facts deserve 
record, if for no other reason than that they tend to mitigate our 
wonder and censures, and contribute to soften our feelings towards 
a people who, in retaliating such acts, thought themselves in the per¬ 
formance of a duty imposed on them by the laws of their education. 

Amid every fluctutation of peace and war, during the flow of a 
century of years past, one cause was steady in its effects, and con¬ 
tinues to be steady in its effects: that cause was, and is, migration 
to the West, which may well be compared to the rushing of a fluid 
into a void. Danger, hunger, cold, and death itself, it would seem, 
have never had much, if any, influence in arresting this all-powerful 
human motion. Individuals and families fell, and their dying screams 
scarce ceased their echoes in the forest, when other individuals and 
families followed. I was myself one who, in infancy I may well 
say, was borne along on this mighty current—a current which, I may 
safely say, so far from abating, increases with the increase of mass 
at its fountain-heads, and with increased and increasing means of 
transportation, and cannot be stayed until the great Central and 
Western voids are filled. 





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